


MODERN FAMILY LEGACY PART ONE: THE WHORING OF CLAIRE DUNPHY REVISED AND COMPLETE

by RoryOmore



Category: Modern Family (TV), The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bisexual Female Character, Cunnilingus, Femdom, Lesbian Sex, Multi, Office Sex, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 08:59:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8660737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoryOmore/pseuds/RoryOmore
Summary: This is a revised and complete version of Modern Family Legacy that I have been posting by chapter.  The beginning is almost exactly the same until about chapter six on to the end which has been substantially rewritten.
Part One is entirely about Claire and her relationship with the Little Duchess (Emma Watson) and Rebecca, none of the other characters appear except in the background.  Part Two will be mostly about Alex and Haley, although it will continue Claire's adventures as well.
Thanks for reading.All feedback is appreciated.RoryRory





	

MODERN FAMILY LEGACY  
PART ONE  
THE WHORING OF CLAIRE DUNPHY  
Authors Note: This story is inspired by the characters of Modern Family and is intended as a comical (I hope) parody. The character of the Duchess of Foxboro “Foxy” is based on my general impression of Emma Watson at around age twenty-three. Rebecca Haliday, is based on Rebecca Haliday from The Newsroom, played by the fabulous Marcia Gay Harden. A second part entitled “The Correction of Haley and Alex Dunphy” is in the works.   
This story builds slowly, but there is a payoff at the end.

Thanks  
Rory

 

CHAPTER ONE ACE IN THE HOLE

 

You’re always hearing people say, “Gotta do whatever it takes,” but do they even know what they're saying? “Gonna do whatever it takes” to achieve their particular goal. Ya buddy, whatever covers a lot of ground; whatever covers the entire spectrum of human experience and imagination. Are you really ready to suffer every sort of pain, loss and humiliation? Are you actually prepared to lie, cheat, steal, kill? It trivializes life to talk that way, to act that way, over something like a football game or an Olympic medal, how can you take people who talk like that seriously. Well I'm not the kind of person to shoot my mouth off like that, but I can honestly say that when the chips are down, I am the kind of person who will do whatever, what-ever, it takes to ensure the safety and future of my children. Believe me, I walk the talk mister.

Of course, I never thought it would come to that in my life. By the time I turned forty-two I had it good, at least in all the important areas. Or so I thought. Looking back, I think that it all began to change when my brother decided to move his family to Montana to be part of some big environmental crap, legal thing. We were sad to see them go, but I hadn't really thought of him as a support, I like Mitchel, but I never felt that I needed him. Then my dad's second wife, Gloria, sent her son off to live with his biological father saying that he needed more masculine influence in his life. It seemed strange behavior on her part, but losing my little stepbrother was no big deal. 

While this was going on, and much more to the point, my husband, Phil, Mr Real Estate, went into a sales slump. In four months he sold only one house, and that was a referral. We didn't panic, he’d been through slumps before, but when he went two more months without any sales at all, I began to worry. We needed him to sell a house a month to keep up our comfortable lifestyle, which ran us about fifteen grand a month. Our house, which my genius, real estate husband had bought at the top of the market, was just now at the point where if we sold it we would break even, minus of course all the money we’d paid into it over the past ten years. We had a hundred grand in savings which isn't much, especially with two, maybe three, kids still to go to university. We had figured that we would catch up at some point, and of course we figured that we would get a share of dad's company when he passed away. That was our ace in the hole.

So it wasn't just for the salary, that I started working for my dad in twenty-thirteen, an auspicious year if there ever was one. The idea was for me to get out of the house and get back into the work force, make a bit of money, and maybe, in the back of my mind, kind of keep an eye on our future investment. 

I had some trouble at first with my management style, but it didn't take me long to get a handle on the administrative side of the house. Once I got that down, and started concentrating on the financial aspects, I began to get an inkling that everything was not as rosy as we all thought. Shortly after that dad called me into his office after everyone had gone home, closed the door and came right out with it.

“You're a big girl, so I'm not going to sugar coat it,” he said. “The company’s on its last legs; we'll be bankrupt in a couple of months. I've borrowed to the hilt on the company and on my own credit, sunk every dime of savings I have, cashed my life insurance policy – everything to keep it going these past two years.”

I was dumbfounded; I shook my head and sat there with my mouth hanging open in disbelief. I wanted to ask a hundred questions, but found I couldn't catch my breath. He raised his hand “Hold all your questions and comments until the end, believe me, there's a punch line.” I closed my mouth and tried hard to get enough oxygen through my nose. He went on; “it doesn't matter how I got here, a few mistakes, some bad luck, some bad timing, it isn’t important. What is important, is that you understand the seriousness of our situation.”

“Got it, dad - situation serious,” I managed to croak out.

“Good, because I need you to make an all-out effort on this,” he said and tossed a thumb drive onto the desk. I picked it up, looked at it, looked back at him hoping that somehow it was all a big joke. 

“It's a state funded deal, a huge building and renovation project covering most of Southern California. The legislators put all kinds of political hippie shit on it, and Work Horse Corporation won the bid on the strength of their commitment to using local business and workers, and their record of empowering women, you know, that kind of bullshit. The closets contract for this thing would mean four million profit for us over six years. We get this contract the company is saved; I can retire and you can take over a strong, valuable company; we don't get the contract and, no kidding, me and my family wind up living in your garage.” 

“Dad, this is all so much...”

“Never mind all that; I am going to feed you all the technical stuff, the specs, the supply pipeline, manpower and all that. What I need you to do, is focus on the pitch. Find out everything you can about these people, about the woman taking the bid. You have to sell us to them. They don't want to hear it from an old white guy, they want to do business with a dynamic young woman.”

“Does anybody else in the family know about all this?”

“No. What would be the point of getting them all worried? What good would it do?”

“How long do I have?”

“A month.”

 

####

 

The woman, I should say girl, who was the Work Horse project manager for the Southern California Renewal Project was Patricia Durance Foxworth, a child prodigy. Her father, The Duke of Foxboro was a diplomat, politician and director of a foreign policy think tank; her mother, was a brain surgeon. She graduated from Oxford at age twenty-one with a law degree and a masters in twentieth century English literature. After school she went directly to work for Work Horse and now, at the ripe old age of twenty-three, was in charge of a multi-billion dollar construction project. I really wanted to hate her.

When she arrived at our office wearing clothes that cost more than my car, and jewelry worth more than my house, and turned out to be a gorgeous little pixie with high cheekbones, slightly plump cheeks, a pert nose, mischievous mouth and a dynamite little figure, I wanted to despise her. She wasn’t even stuck up or aloof, but maddeningly friendly, even warm. I hated it that she intimidated me, and it made me so nervous that I probably wouldn't have finished at all, if she hadn't tried so hard to put me at ease and been so good at it. God, her upper class accent was devastating; damn those Brits. 

When I was done, she sat close to me and asked me a few pointed questions that touched directly on our weakest points. I gave her the assurances that dad had given me, and she seemed to accept them. In the end she said, “It is a tenet at Work Horse that we partner with people, rather than companies. I like you Claire, you are just the kind of person we want to work with on this project.”

I actually blushed.

“We will have to run a few checks, but unless something unexpected comes up, I can say that Pritchet Closets and Blinds will have the contract. Our legal department will be in touch with yours, and you have my number; if there is anything you need, please call me. I look forward to having a close relationship with you.” She leaned in close to me and put a hand on my knee, God, I thought for a moment that she was going to kiss me. It was so much to take in, and it came so easy that I was in shock. Afterwards it occurred to me that the whole thing did have a kind of a lezzy vibe, maybe because I’d never been in such a position of dependence on another woman, and I wasn’t used to Brits, so I put it out of my mind.

We were in. Now the real work began as we scrambled to meet commitments that we never should have made in the first place. For the next month we worked our asses off but just couldn’t get ahead of the curve. The estimates that dad had given me were all too optimistic; he was much more out of touch with the current state of the industry than I had ever imagined. We had problems with labor, with supplies, availability of machines and tools, shortage of finances – just about everything. After three weeks he stopped saying positive things all the time and started to look very pale and haggard, he even missed a couple of days work which I found out later was because he had a small heart attack that he didn't tell anyone about. I wasn't sleeping, my nerves were on edge, and I was practically pulling my hair out. And what were all the other members of the family doing while I was carrying them all on my back?

Phil still hadn't sold a house and wasn't even trying. He was convinced that he had to make the jump now if he was ever going to realize his dream of being a professional magician. He spent all day and night working on his act when he wasn't sniffing around Gloria. My dad's blushing bride it seemed, was fed up with the lack of attention and vitality in my dad lately and had turned to the most available source of admiration, Phil. Of course, while those two were up to their shenanigans nobody was watching our darling little children who were getting in to a very big pile of shit. 

Naturally, just at this time the little duchess shows up for a surprise visit. She arrived at the main plant in a big Cadillac with a female driver; “We’re trying so hard to buy American on this project,” she said. “It's such fun.”

I had to take her on a tour of the mostly empty facility which embarrassed the hell out of me. She was nice, sympathetic; touching my arm, smiling with encouragement as I furiously tap danced around her questions. She was too well brought up to call me a liar to my face so she waited until we were in “the loo.” 

“You must try this lipstick Claire,” she said as we stood in front of the mirror. “I think this shade will look great on you.” She handed me a stick in a gold, actual gold, tube and I put it on to be polite. It looked good and really felt good too; son- of-a- bitch.

“Oh, it kind of tingles,” I said.

“Yes isn't it lovely, it has all kinds of medicinal benefits as well. It’s made by one of our sister companies, Show Horse, in Trinidad of all places,” she said. I was going to ask her about all these “horse” “sister” companies to take the focus off of my own sorry operation, but she didn't give me a chance. She took a silver case from her purse and handed me a beautifully embossed business card with a hand- written number on the back.

“Claire, I want you to have my personal number,” she said gently. “If there is anything you need, anything at all, feel free to call me at any time.” she said.

“Thank you Patricia,” I said. “I will.”

“And Claire, I’m sure that if you knew that you were unable to meet your commitments, that you would let me know in sufficient time to do something about it without knocking the whole program off the rails.”

I nodded sheepishly keeping my eyes lowered, studying her card.

“Just call and say “help,”” she said touching my arm again. “We want you to succeed.”

After she left I sat in my office with my head between my knees feeling sick. I had a long talk with dad that evening and confirmed that there was nothing up his sleeve that was going to save us. Finally at about nine that night I called the number and got her message box. “This is Claire. Help,” I said.

She called me back about an hour later. “One of our jets is leaving LA tomorrow morning at eleven, go to the Flying Horse counter at the executive terminal, they’ll have a seat for you. A car will meet you at the Sacramento airport and bring you out to our property. Rebecca is here which is fortuitous. Bring your problems and we will knock them on the head over a couple bottles of Chardonnay. You can stay the night and we will get you back to LA the next morning.”

I felt a deep sense of relief, but I also kinda wanted to kill her. 

 

CHAPTER TWO THE RICH ARE DIFFERENT

“Son of a bitch,” I said out loud as we rounded another curve on the winding mountain road outside of Sacramento; each new vista was more striking than the last, and we had been driving up into the mountains for over a half an hour. This turn took us onto a private drive through more snow-clad pines to a gate with a guardhouse. The armed female guard chatted with my female chauffer for a moment before waving us through with a smile. We drove for another couple of minutes before turning onto the circular driveway in front of a large, modern…. well mansion, is what I would call it. It blended seamlessly with the surroundings, all clean lines, glass and dark wood paneling, all very elegant and understated. There was some sort of scaffolding around the front entrance “Just some renovations going on I’m afraid,” the driver said over the intercom. “I’ll take us around the back and show you the way in.”

The back was as impressive as the front. There were some other low buildings separated from the main house where we parked, all of the same design and construction. The driver, a fit looking twenty-something amazon in a neat, tight fitting uniform complete with high boots and heels, opened the door for me. She had short blonde hair slanting across the top of her face, blue eyes, and fashion model cheekbones, “This way Mrs. Dunphy,” she said smiling. Everyone I met associated with this company exuded happiness, competence and confidence; they also all women, not necessarily young women, but all attractive and in good shape. 

Although there was still a lot of snow on the ground the whole back area was cleared and heated. We walked past a long narrow pool steaming in the cold, to a back door where the driver took her leave and turned me over to the maid, who was almost, but not quite, a classic Burlesque image of one. She was also blonde, but was exceptionally big-busted. She had thick lips and she wore a tight short skirt with dark hose and high heels, no apron or little cap, but the effect was certainly there.

“The ladies are at the pool,” she said in a husky voice and led me on into the house. I thought we had just passed the pool, but before I could say anything we were looking out from a kind of balcony off the living room down into a huge open space. A floor below me, a clear, blue tiled pool, longer than an Olympic, but not as wide, stretched out to meet an expanse of forty foot wide, two story, floor-to-ceiling glass that looked out onto the majestic snowy mountains. The room was spotlessly white and streamlined; long white couches lined both sides of the pool. At the far end where the pool widened out to take up the whole space in front of the window there were a couple of end tables and a couple of potted plants, but that was all. The maid led me down some carpeted stairs which opened up onto an area off to the side of the pool where there were more white couches and chairs, and a full bar. The “ladies” stood by the bar with drinks in their hands wearing long gauzy wraps over top of their bathing suits - and heels. 

Patricia came forward with both arms extended and gave me a hug. “So glad you came,” she said. “That will be all Kelly,” she said over my shoulder.

She took me by the arm and led me a few steps to Rebecca, who smiling brightly, took me by the shoulders and kissed me warmly on both cheeks, “So pleased to meet you Claire,” she said in a soft but strong voice.  
“And I'm so happy to meet you ma'am,” I replied, I guess she was American, but I felt like I had been introduced a queen.

“Please call me Rebecca,” she replied.

“Rebecca, I can't tell you how much I appreciate your meeting with me to help me work through these uh….. Issues,” I felt like a country bumpkin, like an ugly duckling, practically like a street person, in front of these women. My hands flopped around like I didn't know what they were for, I felt like my knees were knocking together. I was about to launch into my appeal when Rebecca took me lightly by the shoulder, and leaning in a little to my face said, “I bet you would like a drink after your long trip. Patricia, fix Claire up.”

“Already on it,” Patricia called back gleefully from behind the bar.

“We're having gin and Collins,” Rebecca said. “Just the thing for this time of day.”

“You won't get an argument from me,” I said a bit too heartily. Rebecca pretended not to notice my awkwardness and led me to the bar where a very tall glass was placed in my hand. “To Claire,” Patricia proclaimed. “To Claire,” Rebecca replied while I held my glass up to be clinked.

“Race you to the bottom,” Patricia challenged, looking at me with mischievous eyes as she tipped up her drink. 

“You little imp,” Rebecca replied, but tipped up hers as well also looking at me. I realized that they were both already a little tipsy. 

“Okay, if that's the way you want to play it, just so happens I can hold my drink,” I thought. 

Patricia won the race to the bottom, but I wasn’t far behind. Fresh drinks immediately appeared, but these were sipped by these flushed, beautiful women who were so different in many ways and yet shared so much in common. Patricia was petite, although she was about an inch taller than Rebecca. She had pale white skin, light brown, slightly tilted eyes, cute, ever so slightly plump cheeks and lips; her light brown hair fell to her shoulders. Rebecca was much darker, not so much as to say that she was brown, just a white woman exquisitely tanned. Her nose was a bit large and her lower lip fatter than her upper, but this imbalance was surprisingly seductive, her striking dark eyes were made up quite darkly, and just a little too heavily for this time of day. Although they must have been over thirty years apart in age, they both came from money and nobility, and had attended prestigious institutions of higher learning. They shared perfect posture; confident, yet still feminine. Their skin was flawless, and there was a sleek effortless air about everything they did. The only stark difference between them was that while Patricia had almost a boy’s body, Rebecca was really quite voluptuous. Her large breasts, curvy hips and butt would put even Gloria to shame. I was awed by their intelligence, impressed by their money and taste, and more than a little turned on by their bodies. 

I took a deep breath and dove into the momentary silence to launch my pitch once again, but Rebecca placed a hand on my arm; “Relax Claire, we’re not going anywhere. Come, we were just about to have a swim when you arrived. It’ll be just the thing to relax and refresh you.”

I couldn’t refuse; after all, I was a guest and a supplicant, and they were being gracious and welcoming, but I didn’t have a bathing suit or anything and I found myself stammering again.

“Just go into the cabana on the right there dear, I’m sure you’ll find everything you need, then come and join us; here, don’t forget your drink, “Rebecca said.

The cabana was the size of my master bedroom at home, with an en-suite just as big. I plopped down the laptop I had been lugging around, set my drink down on the dressing table and went to look through the closets, which were beautiful, by the way. There were about a dozen wraps hanging up, but no bathing suits; I checked the dresser and found about twenty of them, all very high quality, all looking brand new. The problem was that I couldn’t find one to fit me; they were either for women with big cans like Rebecca, or little pixie bodies like Patricia. Some of them were so incredibly skimpy it was impossible to tell what kind of body they would fit, they were little more than strings that ran up your crack. I giggled a little as I held one up to my naked body; God who would have the nerve to wear such a thing? It made me wonder what kind of swimming parties they had around here. I also noticed that there were no men’s bathing suits; well maybe it was a women’s cabana, I told myself. 

Finally I found a tan one-piece that was a skimpier than I would normally wear, but was not cut as low in the bust, or as high in the hip as any of the others. I had kept them too long as it was, so I quickly wiggled into it, left my empty glass on the dressing table, and went out wearing a pair of two inch heels that seemed to fit me.

They were both in the pool doing laps, both swimming well of course, so I lowered myself in and started doing the same. This went on longer than I thought it would, but that was okay with me; I’m very fit, and I was confident that I could easily keep at it as long as they could. In the end I was just getting warmed up, we’d done maybe twenty laps when I turned to find them lounging in the shallows waiting for me. “There, feels better doesn’t it?” Rebecca said smiling as I swam up to them.

‘Yes very nice,” I replied which was true, it did feel better, more relaxed, more alert. 

“Good, we can begin discussing these problems of yours as we head to the sauna,” she replied.

“Of course,” I said then stopped dead as I saw Patricia rise out of the water in front of me. Her white suit, which had slid right into the crack of her tight little ass, was now completely see through. Rebecca’s was the same, and with her there was a lot more to see, including large dark nipples in the middle of big swaying breasts. I had just managed to cover my surprise at seeing her when I realized that my suit must be the same. Blushing, I could see the red right down to my feet, I tried to match their non-chalant walk as we went back to the bar area and got towels for our heads. Heads wrapped, bodies still wet, slinky and mostly naked, we started for the sauna.

“Now what would you say is the issue that worries you the most Claire, the one thing, not necessarily the most urgent thing, that you feel will be hardest to resolve?” Rebecca asked, holding me gently by the arm, one slick boob pressing against me as we walked. I tried to concentrate and not stare at Patricia’s naughty little bum twitching in front of us as she led the way. I hadn’t gotten out a proper answer or even a coherent sentence by the time we reached the door of the sauna. The maid was there, and my mind was further muddled when Patricia peeled off her suit and handed it to her. I managed to get my tongue back into my mouth before I snapped it shut, and in order not to feel even more embarrassed I quickly slid out of mine. In that instant I had noticed, without staring of course, that Rebecca had a pretty full bush of dark hair, while Patricia was shaved bare.

It’s not that I’ve never been naked around other naked women before; after all I go to the gym regularly, and I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. Like I said, I’m in very good shape, better than either of them, although I certainly could have used a little more work in the grooming department at this moment. In my defense I had been very busy lately and I didn’t expect this to be happening. Whatever this was. It was so unexpected and off the wall. I had no idea how rich people behaved in these situations, or how rich people behaved at all for that matter; I mean the really rich, the mega rich like these two. All I could do was follow their lead and try and act as if it was all natural to me, like I belonged in here with the winners and not out in the cold with the losers. This is America buddy, you’re either one or the other. 

It was very subtle, but I swear there was just the slightest smirk on the face of the maid as I handed her my bathing suit.

The sauna was a fairly large rectangular room with two levels of benches that could have seated at least seven or eight people. Rebecca climbed up to the top bench at the end and snugged herself into the corner with her legs stretched out, while Patricia poured water on the coals and got the place really steaming. I sat in the corner opposite Rebecca, matching her pose, legs crossed at the ankle. The bench was long enough that our feet didn’t quite touch. Patricia came and sat on the bench just below Rebecca, leaning her head against the older woman’s side. Rebecca toyed with Patricia’s neck while the duchess reached up and gently stroked her thigh. They both smiled at me expectantly, “Well?” Rebecca asked.

I had no idea what she meant. Was she looking for me to comment on their apparently lesbian May - December relationship? Was that even what it was? Maybe this was the way all these high class women treated each other, I mean after all, they all went to special preppy boarding schools where they all slept with each other didn’t they? Were they asking me if I wanted to join in?

Still seeming not to notice my lack of social graces Rebecca prompted gently, “Your greatest concern?”

“Oh yes, yes of course,” I stammered, giving my head a shake. I took a deep breath, “Get it together Claire,” I said to myself, and I got my focus and launched into a detailed description, from memory of the legal problems we were facing. They listened attentively, still idly stoking each other’s shiny skin. They waited until I was completely finished and then asked a few careful questions, which I was able to answer to their satisfaction. They talked a bit to each other, but so many of the legal terms they were using strange to me that they could have been speaking Latin for all I know, well I guess they were mostly speaking Latin, then Rebecca closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall. Patricia continued to smile at me sweetly at me. Was she coming on to me? Had Rebecca fallen asleep? “Seriously, were they fucking with me?”

Rebecca spoke to Patricia again without opening her eyes, and the younger woman got up and came and sat close beside me, flank pressed against sweaty flank. Rebecca opened her eyes, sat up and came towards me too, forcing me to make room so that she was pressed against my other side. “There’s nothing here that we can’t handle,” she said.

I was trying not to scrunch up, trying not to seem defensive; still not sure what was going on. “But the legal matters, some of those things are before the courts, some have been tied up there for years,” I said.

Rebecca walked her fingers along my shoulder to the back of my neck. “Oh I think I can manage it, if I am properly motivated,” She said. “I have quite a bit of influence with the courts in LA.”

Patricia made a little laugh, “That’s an understatement; Rebecca pretty much owns the courts down there.”

“Really,” I managed to gasp, squirming a little when Patricia gently laid her hand on my thigh. Okay, so it was going to be like that, at least it wasn’t all in my imagination.

“Honestly Claire there really isn’t anything we can’t manage for our friends,” Rebecca said.

“Do you want to be our friend Claire?” Patricia asked slowly moving her fingers towards my pussy.

“No….. Yes…. I don’t know. No, I’ve got to go,” I said and bolted.

I ran naked to the cabana and threw on my clothes. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing; I had panicked, and I’m not even sure why. I knew that I had probably just thrown away my future and that of my dad and our whole family, but all I wanted was to get out of there without facing them again now that I had made a fool of myself by showing what a hopeless, timid, soccer mom I was. Clearly I was out of my element and completely out of my league.

Patricia, still naked, with a towel wrapped around her head was leaning against the wall by the stairway, the maid stood beside her looking at me vacantly, unfazed, as if this sort of shit happened all the time around here. “I’m so sorry Patricia,” I said. I knew I must have looked ridiculous, having thrown on my clothes straight out of the sauna with my hair a mess. “I’m just not…, I’m a married woman I ...”

“You really don’t get the full benefit of the sauna unless you take a dip in the cold pool afterwards,” she replied.

“We’re not up to it, I’m not up to it,” I pressed on. “I know there will be fines and such ...”

“Nonsense. Really Claire, there’ll be none of that. No hard feelings.”

“But, the commitments we made?”

“Oh, we won’t be able to pay you of course, and we will have to contract with someone else, but it’s nothing we can’t take in stride. The car will take you back down. The jet is still here, and it will run you back to LA straight away.”

“That’s very kind of you, I……”

 

She shrugged; “Sincerely, no hard feelings. It’s too bad that you weren’t up to it this time, but if you ever have any new proposals, or if you ever find yourself in any trouble, you have my number, feel free to use it. Kelly will see you out; safe journey Claire.’” She shook my hand and turned and walked away, nude, and totally at ease, moving as sleekly as a model going down the runway, while I bumbled after the maid.  
CHAPTER THREE ANNNN-YYYYYYY-THIIIIING

Did I blow it? I kept asking myself that as I sat alone in the Smithcorp executive jet soaring towards LA. What was the big deal? I’d eaten pussy before, I’d even liked it. Patricia and Rebecca were very attractive, sexy women and under different circumstances I would have loved to have a little romp with them. Come on, they weren’t ordering me to eat them out, they had been very polite and classy about the whole thing. And I sure as hell wouldn’t have been a cheap fuck; helping me out of the hole dear old dad had dropped me into would have cost them tens of thousands of dollars. But no matter how refined and upscale it might have been, I would still have been a whore. I just couldn’t lower myself to that. I was determined to keep my pride no matter what the cost to myself and the family.

That attitude lasted about ten minutes. The police were waiting to put the cuffs on me as soon as I stepped off the plane. It turned out, as I discovered some hours later, that while I was working my ass off to save the family business, and Phil was pursuing fucking around with Gloria, our children, the little dickens, had been running a prostitution ring for suburban pedophiles. That’s very, very, bad under any circumstances, but it got worse. They had been using an old phone of mine that I thought I’d lost to conduct their sordid business. Yep, everything was there on my phone; contacts, payoffs, the names of a bunch of old pervs and a bevy of underage teenage whores – all there on my phone.

The police are not particularly sympathetic towards a woman who pimps out her children and their nice suburban friends. I actually got spit on about ten times in the police van. They screwed me around and yelled at me, threatened me with everything from the electric chair to sodomy with a rubber hose, before I was allowed to make a call. 

The little duchess answered on the first ring. “Patricia, I really, really, really want to be your friend,” I said. Then I lowered my voice, “And I’ll do anything to prove it, annn-yyyy-thing.” 

 

####

 

On my command Claire came in, nervous and a little wobbly on her stilettos. She was dressed as I had instructed; the tight little red dress rode high on her well-shaped thighs as she walked, threatening to expose her pantyhose covered pussy with every step. She came and stood contritely in front of the desk, hands down at her lap, head slightly lowered, looking like someone steeling herself to receive a deserved punishment. I had her by her little blonde short and curlies; her demon children had put her in a terrible jam, which had stunned her, and of course the three day stay in the city holding cells had terrified her. She was completely at my mercy, and I could have done any number of unspeakable things to her, but I didn’t want her broken, just submissive to my will.

She lifted her chin and looked straight at me, pride still burning bright in her battered blue eyes. She had a shiner over her right eye, still quite livid where some guard or dyke had hit her I supposed.   
Sleeplessness and stress had taken their toll on her soccer mom face, but all in all she looked pretty good for someone who had just gotten out of prison a few hours ago.

“Rebecca, I want to say how very grateful I am to you for getting us all out of jail; that was the most horrendous experience of my life, and I can only imagine how terrible it must have been for the children. We can’t thank you enough, and I sincerely hope that you will agree to take our case; I’m sure that someone of your renowned skill can get us off.” She smiled an ingratiating smile titling her pretty head a little to one side.

I finished looking through the papers on my desk, then sat back for a moment regarding her with disapproval. “Jesus Claire,” I said, “how could you not have known what these kids were up to?” 

She bit her lip and was about to say something, but I cut her off and pressed on, “There’s no question of guilt, they were caught red handed in a fully documented police sting. Quite the cinema verite, believe me. And they have your phone. Good God, child prostitutes in the suburbs of LA! This is a DA’s wet dream; they’re going to eat you alive,” I said.

She brushed her blonde hair back over her ears, her eyes closed as if she could shut out the truth, “But I’m not guilty Rebecca! I didn’t have anything to do with it, and they’re only kids. How bad can it be?” she asked.

I took off my glasses and leaned forward. My nipples were rock hard at this point and my pussy was getting moist; “I guess I’m not making myself clear,” I said. “The DA has no motivation what so ever to go easy on this. He will threaten and badger your family until he gets a confessions from one of the girls, or from Phil or Gloria, that ties you to the whole thing, true or false. Even if they know they don’t have a case against you, they’ll draw it out as long as possible for the publicity. Luke might get a break because of his age, maybe a year or two in juvie, but the girls will be charged as adults, and at best they’re looking at twenty years in federal prison. And for you, twenty five at least; very hard time too.”

She did some sexual fretting; pulling at the short hem of her skirt, fooling with front of her dress that was cut almost to her navel, and then looked at me with a pleading, enticing half smile, “But you can do something right? Find a loophole, or fix a jury or something,” she was trying to be light and cajoling, but when I remained stern I could see the confidence draining out of her face. Her upper lip trembled a little as she went on, “You said you would do anything for a friend. I desperately want to be your friend Rebecca, your obedient little friend; can’t you help me?”

“This isn’t some petty matter like fraud or even murder Claire,” I snapped back. “Are you listening to me? The DA’s going to throw everything they have at it, and it’s going to take a lot of man-hours to fight it.” 

Her head drooped and her eyes lowered, but all of the muscles in her face were tight, even the muscles of her legs were tight; she hadn’t given up. She toyed with the hem of her dress revealing her pussy. “God, I know, I know,” she said angrily, “Those little shits, they should be punished, and punished hard, but if they go to jail their lives will be ruined.” She looked up at me earnestly; “It would be so much better if you could punish them and show them how to get their lives back on track.”

I sat back in my chair, giving her nothing. She went on, doubt creeping into her voice, “All I can say is that you hold our lives in your hands, and I will do whatever it takes to make it up to you, and the girls too,” she looked at me directly, blatantly licking her lips, “We will do anyyyything, and I mean anyyyything you want us to do if only you will help us.”

“You’re so cute,” I replied tilting my head and making a sympathetic face, “You really don’t know how much this is going to cost do you? How much do you think my office gets per hour for a case like this?”

Her eyes went wide with alarm and she was back to toying with her hair, “Ah I don’t …five hundred an hour?”

“Eighteen hundred. You could do the math, but ball park, it’ll cost my firm over two million dollars to defend this case; and that’s not counting the considerable amount of favors we’ll have to call in.”

“Two million!” her jaw actually dropped and tears sprang to her eyes.

“Do you have a two million dollar ass Claire?” I asked.

Trying to get a grip on herself she wiped her eyes and looked down and away from me, “Well, yes, that is considerably more than I imagined,” she took a deep breath, “Two million bucks, really…. wow, shit.” 

I let her stew, just sitting back and looking at her skeptically. She took another deep breath and then looked me straight in the eye with determination, “So what’s going to happen to us? Are you at least going to give us a chance to try and fuck like two million dollar whores?” she asked.

I turned my chair to the side so that I could rest an arm on the desk while I looked at her as I would any person making a business pitch that I was mildly interested in. She and her daughters had potential certainly, but I thought the cost was too high. It was really Foxy that wanted her so badly, and well, I liked to make Foxy happy.

“The bottom line is that you are asking us to make a substantial investment in you Dunphy’s,” I said reasonably. “Ultimately its Mr Smith’s decision, it’ll be Smithcorp that foots the bill; I have to decide if you merit an audition with him. As you can imagine, Mr Smith is a very busy man with a flood of offers, and I don’t lightly waste his time.” 

Much to my delight that got the sparks flying; pride and fierce determination transformed her stance. She leaned forward, one hand resting on the desk, the other pointing to her face; “We won’t waste your time Rebecca, I promise you that. Look at this face; this face can be anybody you want it to be; this mouth can suck the chrome off a bumper. My daughters are obviously natural whores, and they sure as hell are going to be eager to put their cute little cunts on a platter for you.” She placed both hands on the desk now, and leaned further towards me, her mouth trembling with challenge, eyes full of fire, “I’m a fighter, I have no scruples or moral reservations, and I will do whatever it takes to satisfy that man, just give me a chance.” 

I swung my chair more to the open side of the long desk, “Alright, you say you’re ready to commit; let’s see you put your mouth where the money is, so to speak. You can start by licking my shoes. Pay particular attention to the heels, I want to see that tongue of yours in action,” I said. She hesitated a second looking a little shocked, then nodded her lowered head. As she came around the end of the desk I added sternly; “and from now on you will address me as madam, you little whore.”

 

####

 

 

Okay, I thought, that was a little abrupt; no easing into things. I guess we’re going straight from Claire Dunphy, business woman and soccer mom, to “shoe-licking little whore”. Okay, I said I would do anything, and now’s the time to get down on my knees, shove my pride up my ass, and start being the best damn shoe-licking whore she’s ever seen.

“Yes madam,” I said as I walked around the long desk. She turned her chair all the way around to face me, and sat back with her legs crossed, one leg dangling over the other. She wore a silky, gray-green wraparound dress that rode just above her knees while sitting; her legs were encased in black nylon.

I smiled at her and wriggled theatrically, pulling my tight dress up over my hips so that I could kneel properly at her feet. She split her dress open and spread her legs wide revealing that she wore sheer to the waist pantyhose over top of her trimmed, full black bush. I had never done this before in my life, so I just instinctively went to my left and had to get right down on my stomach to get my tongue at her shoes. They were very un-business like, severe, five-inch heels with about an inch-and-a-half platform at the toes which were open, as was the wickedly curved arch; they were fastened by a thin strap that wound twice around her surprisingly thin ankles and tied up in a limp bow. Her arch looked quite enticing actually, and I started there, sticking my tongue out to make long licks of her foot.

“Get your tongue under the sole of the arch,” she commanded and I immediately shifted my tongue to start licking the underside of the shoe which was actually very clean and smelled like expensive leather. She brought her left foot over and dug her heel into my exposed ass, “what do you say when you’re given a command?” she asked.

“Yes madam?” I replied. Her heel was still digging into my ass threatening to rip the pantyhose. 

“Say it,” she said, pressing down until it pinched. 

“Yes madam,” I said loudly and she eased up. “Now do the heel, get your tongue way out, come on you little slut, you said you were good.”

I flicked my tongue up and down the heel, and then tried my best to wrap it around the spike. I felt the pressure of her other foot again, “Look at me, look up! A first class whore always maintains eye contact unless told otherwise,” she advised.

I twisted my head so that I could look up at her as I continued to lick, “yes mammmmdamml,” I mumbled with the leather in my mouth.

“Now do the toes,” she said, and I moved around to start licking and sucking her toes while trying to keep my eyes on her. She prodded me again, “and stick your ass up, higher, good, a first class whore always sticks out her ass whenever possible.”

“Yes madam,” I said positioning myself more squarely in front of her and raising my ass from my hips; there was so much to think about that I hardly had time to feel humiliated. Anyway, she didn’t let it go on too long before she ordered me to stand up.

I gratefully tottered to my feet, running my tongue around the inside my mouth to try and deal with the dry leather taste, while still maintaining eye contact. My dress was bunched up around my waist, and I was going to straighten it, but thought better of it, and just stood there with my hands at my sides. She stood up and strode around to the front of the desk; with each of us in our heels we stood directly nose to nose. She grabbed me by the back of the neck and roughly, pulled my mouth to hers and started tonguing me.

As I’ve said, this wasn’t my first lesbian encounter; I had fooled around a bit in high school of course, and at university I’d had sex with two different girls at different times, you could even say that I was in a lesbian relationship at one point for about four months. The sex was pretty good; I was the dyke of course. I’ve got nothing against pussy or boobs or hairless asses, nothing at all, it just really isn’t my thing. I do like a good hard cock though, and they just don’t make a dildo that really comes close to the real thing. I like to get fucked by a man. If I’m having sex with a woman, I do the fucking. 

Rebecca was a clean, perfumed, and attractive woman, so the sex was no hardship for me. Being submissive, being the femme, now that was hard, and I didn’t really know how much I was supposed to play that up, so after a bit I gave Rebecca as good as I got, kissing her hard, putting my hands at the sides of her neck and pushing her dress off of her shoulders as she reached around and grabbed my ass. She seemed all right with that; we were really going at it for a while, and I began to get pretty turned on. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad, I thought, especially if I wasn’t going to be expected to be meek all the time. I couldn’t imagine Patricia being the dyke, and I was already thinking about what it would be like to get a crack at that sweet, tight assed, little upper-class slut.

Just when I was starting to chew on Rebecca’s luscious lower lip she broke it off. She leaned back and gave me an appreciative look. “Turn around and take off your pantyhose,” she said perching on the edge of the desk. 

I turned around, bent down and started to take them off when I felt the toe of her shoe at the bottom of my butt. 

“Not like that, damn it. Bend at the waist, stick your ass out and slowly pull the pantyhose down over your ass. You’re a performer now Claire, you have to stimulate all the boss’s senses; sight, sound, smell and touch, but most especially sight,” she said. I tried to do as she said, trying to mimic all of the strippers I had seen in the movies, “Eye contact!” she snapped.

“Yes madam,” I replied twisting my head around and angling myself a bit so that I could look at her. I kept my legs straight for as long as I could, and then had to bend a little and step out of the pantyhose. 

“Turn around and hand them to me,” she said. “Now snug up against the desk, lean on it with your elbows, that’s it,” she gave me a hard, loud smack on my behind, “What did I say about your ass?”

“”Stick it out madam,” I replied trying my best to do that. She ground her hips into me and pushed me hard against the wood of the desk which hit me about mid-thigh, then she grabbed my arms and hauled them up behind me making me collapse onto the desk putting all of my weight on my less than substantial tits, crushing my cheek into the wood.

I could feel her binding my wrists together with the pantyhose. I could feel her behind me, grinding both hands over my ass cheeks and upper thighs, giving me a hard slap from time to time. I didn’t like this nearly as much, and I squirmed a little trying to get comfortable.

“Oh you don’t like that?” she hit me harder and began to forcefully rub the bottom of my cheeks, brushing the sides of my pussy lips with her thumbs. I was wondering how far this was going to go when she gave me another hard slap, “Say “mmmmmum” when someone does something like that to you,” she said. 

“Yes madam, mmmmmum,” I replied a little sarcastically. She laughed at that and then gave me a very hard slap. 

“Oh Claire, Claire, Claire!” she said still laughing, but punctuating each “Claire” with a harder slap, “You’re going to be so much fun. Now do it again properly,” she snapped and pushed a thumb roughly inside my wet pussy. 

I jumped a little and said, “Oh!” and then recovered myself and said “mmmmmum” in a suitably sexy way.

“Better,” she said and then moved to the side so that she could more easily stroke my ass, “You have a very nice ass Claire, obviously the product of many hours of work in the gym; that’s good, the boss likes a hard working girl.”

“Yes madam, thank you madam,” I replied feeling that was the appropriate response to make to a woman who was complimenting you while she had her thumb up your snatch. With my head mashed against the desk I found myself looking out the big windows at the lovely garden outside, and thinking how strange it was that this didn’t seem all that strange. Had I been heading for to this absurd position all of my life?

“You have potential Claire,” Rebecca declaimed still stroking my ass, and rubbing her fingers along the very edge of my indecently swollen pussy lips; “a pretty face, nice hair, a decent, if somewhat lean body, intelligence, wit, spirit; you have everything it takes to be truly top shelf, we just have to see if you have the will. We have to see if you have the strength to submit,” she concluded with one hard slap.

She sat down again, “Good, you can go now, take a nap, get something to eat, and then Patricia will look in on you and see to your training.”

“Yes madam, thank you madam,” I replied. Training? What the hell did she mean by that I wondered as I disentangled myself from my pantyhose, and wriggled my dress back down over my hips. She had already turned her attention to some papers on her desk, so I turned around and attempted to wobble out of her office with as much dignity as my red bottom, and wet pussy would allow.

 

CHAPTER FOUR

ONES PROPER PLACE

Kelly had done her usual efficient job of getting the “guest” ready for me by the time I had finished with the last of the tedious Renewal Project business for the day. Claire was rested, scrubbed clean, with light whorish make-up applied, her hair freshly fluffed, and was wearing nothing but four inch stilettos. She had survived her initial meeting with Rebecca well enough for me to proceed with her training, and she seemed to have recovered remarkably well from her stay in prison, physically at least. In fact she must have been feeling downright cocky, because she stood with a bit of a smug smile when I entered and started towards me as if she would give me a hug.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, bitch,” I snarled and slashed at her nipples with my riding crop.

“Owwww, what….hey!” she objected and stumbled back, bringing her arms up to cover her tits.

I shifted my aim deftly and cut at her upper thighs; “stand still, damn you,” I shouted and kept advancing on her.

“Stop that, Owwww, shit!” she cried out stumbling back until she ran up against Kelly who pinned her arms behind her back and forced her to her knees. Claire was fit and wiry, but she was no match for Kelly who was half a foot taller, at least sixty pounds heavier, and quite experienced at this sort of thing. She squirmed, and thrashed, and complained, but there was nothing she could do.

I slapped her right across the lips with the leather flap at the tip of the crop, a precise blow, not enough to leave any sort of mark, but certainly enough to sting and focus her attention. 

“Shut it Claire!” I commanded and brought the tip of the crop up against her lips and held it there, ready to strike again in a flash. She got the message and stopped complaining, clamping her mouth shut with an effort and looking up at me with tear-filled, angry eyes.

 

“I thought you wanted to be our friend Claire,” I said. “Uh. Uh,” I added when she looked ready to speak. “If you don’t want to be here, I can have you delivered back to prison within the hour, that would save us a lot of trouble and money, and I’m sure that all of your cell mates will be glad to have you back.”

“Ummmm?” I flicked the crop up to snap her earlobe and watched her flinch and then bite down on her lip, forcing herself to be quiet. 

“The response you are looking for is “I beg your pardon madam, I am nothing but a lowly, cunt-licking, little whore who forgot her proper place,” I said. I dropped the crop from her mouth and flicked at her erect nipples while I gave her a second to adjust her attitude.

“I beg your pardon, madam, I am nothing but a lowly, cunt-licking, little whore who forgot her place,” she replied, the anger easing out of her voice with every word to be replaced by more or less genuine contrition.

I nodded to Kelly who let her go; “stand up!” I commanded stepping back a little.

She couldn’t resist giving Kelly a little shake when the bigger woman let her go, but she stood up quite meekly in front of me, looking more than a little afraid. It had been a shock, no doubt, to find out that I was going to be having my way with her and not the other way around. She didn’t seem to know where to look, or what to do with her hands after she had cuffed away her angry tears. Without looking me directly in the eyes she said, “I’m sorry, really sorry……madam, I really do want to be your friend, I want to do whatever I have to do. I know I owe you…..I….just don’t know what I’m supposed to do. This is all new to me, please forgive me.”

The jailhouse shiner over her right eye made her extra adorable, nonetheless I pointedly ignoring her apology; I stuck the crop under her chin to direct her misty, blue eyes to mine. “Well, we will set you straight on a few things right now then,” I said.

“Thank you, madam,” she replied.

“Posture!” I snapped. “Always stand up straight; tits thrust out, arms down and clasped behind your back.” Actually her posture wasn’t bad, for an American; she had decent bearing, due in part to her pride, and her early training as an ice dancer. She quickly adopted the stance as I explained it to her. 

“Head lowered at a natural angle unless you are spoken to, in which case you will look the speaker in the eyes with a demure, submissive, expression. Legs slightly parted; good.” I used the crop to push her thighs to the proper stance; the red marks where I had struck her were already fading. The greatest part of skill with a crop, or a switch, or even the bare hand is to not hit too hard. In Mr Smith’s household no one is ever struck hard enough to leave a mark that would last more than a day at the most. 

“There are other poses, and we will get to all of them in time, but for now that is your stance, and of course you will never sit unless told to do so.” Once I had her in the proper position I started to circle her, getting a good look at her naked body. I hadn’t had a really good look at her in Sacramento; we had been in the dim sauna at first, and then she had made such a dash for the cabana that I hardly saw anything at all. Seeing her now, in this submissive position, in wicked heels, she looked better than I had first thought. She was very fit, but not too lean; her perky tits sat not too high on her chest, in fact they sloped down a little and spread out covering her whole chest. They were nicely formed, perfectly symmetrical with appropriately sized, quite pink nipples and areola. Some of her ribcage was slightly visible; we would have to do something about that as Mr Smith didn’t like his women to look like starved racehorses. 

“You will not speak unless spoken to. You will address the staff by their first names, but all Smithcorp residents and visitors will be addressed as madam,” I said. 

Her skin was golden with a hint of pink, very fresh, unblemished, and thank god, without tattoos or piercings. She had nice tan lines showing that she was the type to expose a lot of cleavage, hips and butt. Her stomach was flat, but not muscled, her bellybutton neat, small and unmarked. Her ass was high and round and very tight, her legs also very good, perhaps a bit too strong, but all in all she was in wonderful shape for a woman of forty-three. I had been attracted to her edgy, angry spirit and knee-jerk competitiveness because I felt that I was going to have need of a few aggressive women in the near future, the body was a bonus.

I trailed the crop down her narrow, lean back to the top of her deep butt crack, and then gave one of her cheeks a quick snap, “got it?”

“Yes madam,” she replied. She had flinched and stepped forward at the blow, but quickly recovered and resumed the proper position.

“You must learn to take a blow without moving, Claire, especially a little love tap like that,” I said with disdain.

“I…..ah….yes madam,” she replied.

I brought the crop up between her legs and gave her pussy lips a little jolt, “no matter how unexpected,” I added.

She had flinched, but kept her footing; “yes madam,” she replied.

“I shouldn’t have to repeat the fact that you do owe us Claire, and from now on,” I moved around in front of her, reached out and grabbed one of her small nipples and twisted it. Putting my face close to hers I snarled; “we own you, you little cunt; got that?” 

“Yes madam,” she replied, biting down a little on her lower lip.

“Needless to say then, you will not mark, damage, blemish or alter any part of your body without permission.”

“Yes madam.”

I let my hand trail down through her unruly blonde bush, found her tickler and pinched it between my thumb and forefinger. She had been anticipating that, still she gasped a little, and went up on tip-toe, but kept her balance. “You will not play with yourself without permission, you will not have an orgasm without permission,” I squeezed harder.

“Ahhhhhh, yes madam, she replied.

I let go and circled around behind her again, smiling at Kelly who was grinning, one hand on her own clit; Kelly loved her work, which was a desirable quality in ones help. She looked fabulous in black fishnets under a short black skirt, and topless with just a very classy, black and pastel mauve bra. The bra was custom made, as were all of her clothes to fit her awesome natural figure. This bra had marvelously long straps so that her huge tits had a long graceful fall before being gathered up in its large, firm cups. She was a senior member of Smithcorp HQ staff and as such was very well paid and otherwise compensated; she was privy to many secrets, and from time to time might be given quite important responsibilities. The critical difference between staff like her and the company’s chief executives was that she did not have a personal, intimate relationship with the boss. He fucked her, of course, but she never shared his bed. 

“You will do everything you are told immediately, without question or complaint. Repeat that.”

“I will do everything I am told immediately, without question or complaint,” she said firmly as I moved back around in front of her.

“Good, get down on your knees, slut,” I snapped.

“Yes madam,” she said and quickly dropped down on her knees before me.

I unzipped my knee-length skirt, let it fall to the floor, and kicked it away. “Keep your hands behind your back,” I said. “Now find my clit and give it a good lashing with that whore’s tongue of yours.”

 

####

 

Later I thought, well at least I didn’t have to lick her shoes, but at that moment all I could think about was finding the bitch’s clit and getting my tongue to work on it. It wasn’t hard to find, even with my hands behind my back; all I had to do was stick the tip of my nose in between her naked pussy lips and run it up to the top were her clit perched, prominent and swollen. “At least she’s having a good time,” I thought. “This sort of shit obviously gets her off.” I had eaten pussy from this positon before, but not with my hands behind my back since I was never that kinky in college. It took some shifting around on my knees to get the right angle, and then I went to work, lapping and flicking, experimenting with my lips and tongue to see what she liked. I had figured she wasn’t the sensitive-clitty kind, and I was right. I pressed in hard, wanting to make sure she knew how eager I was to please. I was a bit afraid that I’d knock her off balance, but she stood her ground very firmly, and I soon realized that Kelly was beside her, holding her up, and by the sound of it, kissing her at the same time.

Naturally, The Little Duchess had a sweet smelling, and tasting, pussy which she ground into me, literally fucking my face; I felt a hand behind my head, a big hand, pushing me against her. 

“Come on, faster, you lazy slut, I’ll have more effort out of you or I’ll take the switch to you,” Patricia said, and I could hear a taunting giggle in her voice, accompanied by Kelly’s deep, throaty chuckles.

I stepped up my game, just starting to really feel an ache in my tongue that was overcoming my many other mild complaints, from sore knees to riding crop welts. God, I had never in my life imagined I would have riding crop welts! But then who does, besides maybe these upper class, private school brits. I was getting very hot, and not the good kind, I was flushed and sweaty, and also angry and ashamed. I didn’t have to remind myself how badly I needed to accomplish this, but I was humiliated just the same, and with every lick and suck I cursed my little brats. I was also challenged; I hate to lose at anything, no matter what it is, so her taunting really got me going. If I could of just used my hands, I’d of had her of in a flash, but she wouldn’t allow that. She had told me to lick her clit, but she hadn’t specifically said I couldn’t go after the rest of her pussy, so I tentatively started working her lips and just inside as well; she didn’t stop me so I really went to town.

“Make me come, you little slut, come on, make me come!” she shouted and lifted her hips a little so that she was fucking my tongue and driving the bottom of her clit against my nose. It seemed to be working because I could feel her starting to tense, I even heard her moan.

“Come on, damn you, come on; come on! I want to cream all over your smart ass, soccer mom, California girl face!” she shouted.

“What the fuck does she have against California Soccer moms” I wondered. I had her close to the edge, but she kept fucking my face and shouting odd insults. I don’t know how much more I could’ve taken, my neck, tongue and jaw were killing me, all my other pains forgotten, and I was getting tired, not to mention that I was almost suffocating. Finally she went into a kind of humping frenzy. 

“Yesssss, you little cunt, you little cunt, yesss, yesss, yess,” she cried out and I felt her tense, and then felt her juices pour down on me. Fortunately Kelly let go of my head at that moment, or I would have been drowned.

After a moment she detached herself from me and left me there, my sticky face lowered. I had a terrible urge to wipe her cum off of my face, but I knew that would be very rude of me, so I just knelt there catching my breath and hoping she would let me get up off my aching knees.

“Stand up!” she commanded, “Look at me,” she had the damned riding crop again and used to force my chin up. I could barely see her, both me eyes were half closed from a mixture of her love juices, mascara and sweat; I had to breathe though my mouth because my nose was all plugged up.

“Doesn’t she look divine Kelly,” she laughed; “what a wreck, what a slutty, shameless little whore; oh you have to get a picture of this.” I suppose that was done, not that I could really hear or see what was going on. “The black eye really suits you, Claire. Tell me, did you give in to the dyke that did that to you?”

“No madam,” I replied, fiercely. 

“Ah, good girl,” she said, and I felt a terrible sense of pride that this bitch was complimenting me.

“Our girl will sell it, Kelly,” she said with a smirk, “but she won’t let it be taken by force, I like a whore with principles.”

A hot, damp washcloth was tossed into my face. “Clean yourself up, cuntlicker,” she said, indicating that the love fest was over. I wiped my face as quickly and thoroughly as I could before the cloth was snatched back from me by Kelly. I knew I must look awful, like some just-gang-banged bimbo at a frat house, but I stood there looking at the smirking little Brit with most of my eyesight restored.

“Open your mouth,” she said.

I opened my mouth.

“Wider slut!” she commanded and I stretched my mouth out as much as I could and immediately had it filled by the cum soaked wash cloth. Kelly didn’t shove it in very far, and at least I could now breathe partially through my nose.

“You have a long, long way to go Claire,” she said “but its early days, so I shan’t write you off just yet.”

I stood there, a bit unsteadily on those damned, foot crushing heels, looking at her with the blandest expression I could muster with a washcloth stuffed in my mouth. She snapped my left nipple again, hard. “What do you say, you ungrateful dolt?”

“Tthhhhannnnwuyluumfltlsnm,” I replied.

“Kelly will now take you downstairs to the spa where they will clean up your ghastly trim job and generally get you into presentable condition. Mind everything she says.”

“Yeathhhhhtmammmmm,” I replied.

She shoved the riding crop between my slightly parted legs and then pulled it up to lodge between my surprised and bruised pussy lips.

“Clench,” she commanded, and I brought my thighs tightly together. “If you give her any sass, she’ll use this on you, just like I would. You will carry it with you between your legs at all times, and if you drop it you’ll get ten good ones.”

She turned around and causally strode out of the room, not bothering to pick up her skirt or look back at all. I felt Kelly’s warm breath on the back of my neck, “You did okay,” she whispered, “now squeeze tight, go slow, and you’ll be alright. Once we get down to the spa you can look forward to a few hours of luxury and relaxation; follow me.”

Then she started slowly for the door and I minced after her.

 

SLACKERS

 

“Okay, I’m humiliated, I have to do what you say, I’m your slave; I get it already!” I growled to myself.

I was completely naked except for diamond stud earrings and wickedly arched, six-inch black heels. I was standing at attention, perfectly still, like a piece of furniture, like a statue, staring through Rebecca’s bedroom window, off to the distant point where the darkening sky met the sea. It was a beautiful view, but I wasn’t really enjoying it. I couldn’t relax for even a second because I had to keep that damned riding crop from falling from between my legs where it was jammed right up there between my pussy lips. I could understand the point of that, okay so it was some kind of muscle development thing, but what the fuck was the point of making her keep a second crop clenched between her teeth? Come on!

I kept my thoughts off of my face, I was smart enough to keep my expression impassive even though I was turned away from the other two women in the room. “Okay, I get it, I’m you’re plaything; so play with me! Slap me, pinch me, make me lick your pussy, hell shove a god dammed dildo up my ass, anything would be better than this, this…… standing around shit. Whip me, beat me, call me dirty names, but don’t bore me!” I was practically howling at them in my mind, and then laughing, ya laughing inside my skull. And it wasn’t the good kind of laughing either, it was the hysterical kind. 

“Calm down, calm down,” I told myself, “breathe; you can do this. This will pass, nobody’s been shoving anything up anyone’s ass, at least not yet. These are basically decent, civilized people, and all of……. this is just a test, a hazing, like an initiation before they let me into their group. Sure it was. Right?”

“Don’t think, don’t think,” I said, but that was the hardest part. I’ve had never been any good at any of that Zen shit, you know, going all spacy. My mind doesn’t turn off, ever; even when I was running a marathon I never stop thinking. I don’t know what the hell this “runner’s high” is that people talk about. All I know is that as the race goes on I get impatient to get it over with because I can’t stop thinking about all the shit I still have to do that day. “Well you have nothing to do now,” I told myself, “just do what your told and don’t think; don’t think about your feet or your back or your sore pussy, or having to go pee…..damn! No, I don’t, no I don’t. I….. do…..not…..have…..to …..go…..pee.” My legs began to tremble.

For a few hours earlier that day I had been treated almost like a queen down at the spa. There must have been at least five very talented women working on me, pampering me, all very respectful and polite. After that I had a small meal in my room, then I was stripped down, marched here, and now this…this… nothing. I don’t know how long I stood there, being ignored by those two bitches while they played dress up, or whatever the fuck they were doing, but I was beginning to doubt that I could take it any longer, when I caught a break. With nightfall the sky was turning the window dark so that it became just like a mirror. I looked at my own reflection, and it was kinda unreal. I couldn’t believe it was me, couldn’t connect the image of that bondage slut in the window, with me, Claire Dunphy. Still, looking at her I thought, “She’s hot, they won’t be able to keep their hands off of her for much longer.”

Better yet, now, I could now see what was going on in the room behind me, I didn’t even have to move my head. Rebecca and the little duchess were amusing themselves by trying on dresses. At least that’s what it looked like to me, or maybe they were getting ready to go out somewhere, I couldn’t tell. 

All made up, hair done perfect, they drank what smelled like Margarita’s and modelled for each other, turning this way and that, executing pirouettes and burlesquing the moves of runway models, laughing all the time, having such great fun. It couldn’t have been their intention, but they were giving me quite a show as well. Patricia was wearing a very daring little number that was light, airy, and wonderfully skimpy. Very thin straps over the shoulder, down the almost open sides and crisscrossing at her back gave her a wonderful look of vulnerability which suited her small frame, if not her character, perfectly. Its cream color nearly matched her flawless skin. They both agreed that it was darling and that the boss would love it.

Rebecca wasn’t so happy with her outfit by Versace. The black, knee-length skirt was very high waisted, coming up just under her big boobs; the jacket was long sleeved and also black except for the front piece which was done over with an intricate black and white lace. It looked awkward, but it showed off an enormous amount of cleavage very effectively. There was no blouse or chemise at all, and she appeared to be naked under the jacket that was held shut with just a narrow cloth belt. She fretted with it, tugged at it, paced about. She walked over to me, took the crop from my mouth and smacked me across the ass with it once, twice. “Eyes front, slut,” she growled.

“Yes ma’am,” I replied. At last, some new pain to take my mind off of my aching feet and threatening bladder. I didn’t let my relief show on my face, I kept my face stony, my eyes fixed on the horizon and my mouth open. Rebecca shoved the crop back in there and I clamped down on it. I wished she had used the one from between my legs.

“I think it’s hideous,” Rebecca declared turning back to Patricia.

“Oh, no not hideous, nothing could ever be hideous on you,” Patricia replied and came up and put an arm around her. They stood casually like that for a moment, turned towards each other, foreheads touching.

“Good,” I thought. “They’re gonna start going at it any second, and I’ll finally see some real action.” 

“Slackers!” 

The shout from the doorway was so loud and unexpected, so masculine that I nearly jumped out of my skin. I toppled off of my heels, and had to snatch at the crop between my legs to keep it from falling to the floor as I quickly regained my position. Fortunately they weren’t paying any attention to me at all, they were too busy keeping their own balance as they whirled about on their stilettos. They stumbled too, and had to grab each other for support.

“Tom, boss….I thought you were in Shanghai, I….wasn’t expecting you!” Rebecca gasped. 

“What the fuck?” I said to myself, my heart racing in my chest. Rebecca’s voice had actually trembled, the uber-bitch sounded frightened. I was too nervous to really look the guy over; this must be Him; The Boss, The Mr Smith that they all talked about as if he were god. He was an older man, but very fit looking, maybe six feet tall, broad shouldered, and looked like his head was shaved. Holy shit! I expected some pudgy exec type, or some ass with salon hair; this guy looked more like a mob boss, you know, Irish mob. He was wearing a suit, shirt and tie, looking very serious and business like. He was such a presence, that I hardly even noticed Kelly standing behind him, naked – and believe me, that’s a lot of naked.

“And I’m pleased to see you too Rebecca,” he said dryly. 

“I beg your pardon….sir…of course I’m over the moon to see you,” she replied quickly, still off balance.

His voice was calm, but he was mad, that was clear by his stance, and his look that made me freeze and hope he wasn’t looking at me. Rebecca and Patricia just stood there, like they were stunned. I had never seen them like that.

“I’m soooo happy to see you sir, it’s a wonderful surprise,” Patricia said meekly. She seemed to have recovered more quickly than Rebecca, in fact she didn’t sound really very surprised at all.

“Good, I’ve missed you too, my little British cunt,” he replied. He sounded American, non-regional, maybe Californian. He ignored Rebecca and went right over to Patricia, grabbed her and crushed her against his chest. He pulled back her head, bent down to give her a fierce, rough kiss.

He pulled her head away, but kept one hand firmly grasping the back of her neck; she looked up at him with trembling lips. He fingered the neck of her dress then slid his free hand through the wide open side and grabbed her tit; “Nice dress,” he said, “Vera?”

“Yes sir,” she replied.

“My God, you are a naughty little slut, no bra.” Then he ripped the thin material, the Vera Wang, right down the side and reached for her crotch, and I heard her moan “Oh sir, Oh sir, please shove your fingers inside me, oh please finger bang me, sir.” The little bitch.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you, you little cunt, eh, eh,” he growled.

I could hear the sound of his fingers pounding her squishy cunt, and it made me instantly wet. I was standing about six feet away, but I might as well have been invisible. I was watching the show, and it was making me horny, so much so that I was worried that my pussy would get so loose I’d lose the riding crop. While he was doing this, Rebecca just stood there, like she was forgotten too.

“Oh yes sir, I do soooo love it, don’t stop, ahhhhhh, harder sir, harder!” Patricia carried on; she had adjusted to the situation more quickly than the older woman, but then, she was actually getting attention, and no doubt she was enjoying it.

“Prisoner!” he snapped, and I thought, “Is he talking to me?” but he wasn’t. Rebecca snapped into the “prisoner” pose like they had shown me; hands locked behind her head with elbows extended as far as they would go on either side at eye level, legs shoulder length apart, head up, eyes straight ahead. It was a submissive pose, and I would have chuckled, except I was scared shitless. If he was this mad at them, how was he going to feel about me?

He just left her there, and he hauled Patricia over a little so that they were directly behind me, and I couldn’t really see what was going on between them. I could see was Kelly standing casually, hip cocked, she looked completely relaxed. I swear she actually gave me a little smile. That was reassuring, and I calmed down, a little, my heart rate started dropping off, although the excitement in my pussy was still at a dangerous level. Shit, this stuff was turning me on.

The little duchess seemed to have some control over the situation, her eager pleadings turned to muffled little moans, I could only image that Mr Smith had put something in her mouth, his cock or his tongue maybe, although it could be fucking anything around here.

“Yes, I missed your tight, little ass as well,” he growled.

Patricia gave a bit of a startled yelp followed by a breathless, “Oh thank you sir,” and “it means so much to me to please you.” What a little fucking brown nose.

“Must have been his tongue,” I thought to myself because she wouldn’t have taken his cock out of her mouth to speak without being told. At any rate, I didn’t have to guess much longer because he ordered Kelly to come forward, and Patricia went over to her, back into my line of sight. 

I almost dropped the riding crop out of my mouth as I watched her walk up to Kelly, who was standing with her hands on her hips, reach up and wrap her arms around her neck. She rested her head on Kelly’s right shoulder, pressed her modest, perky boobs against Kelly’s huge ones, walked her feet back a foot or so, and bent forward so that her back was at a forty-five degree angle, and her tight little ass stuck out towards me, and of course, Mr Smith. Now she was the one who was blind, I thought, now she’ll have to guess what the hell’s going on.

Mr Smith went over to Rebecca and looked her up and down. She stood as still as me, staring straight ahead while he towered over her. They were turned a bit sideways to me so I couldn’t really see their faces. 

“Versace?” he said.

”Yes sir,” she replied.

“The guy’s losing his touch.”

I couldn’t really tell, looking at her reflection in the window, but you know, I could feel her redden with embarrassment. She didn’t reply, just stood there and took it. I felt a little smug, I hadn’t liked the outfit either.

“Maybe without the skirt; lose it,” he commanded, and she reached around to the zipper, which in this case was almost as high up as a bra strap, quickly unzipped, dropped, and then stepped out of the offending garment. She wore nude sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose with no panties which seemed to be the thing around here. “The jacket’s not so bad,” he said with a little shrug, very dismissive, and again I thought, “Holly shit, I thought Rebecca was his favorite.”

The jacket split outwards just below the under-the-boobs belt, leaving her tummy exposed down to the low waist of my pantyhose. With her arms back behind her head the top also was very open, in fact just barely revealing her tight nipples. 

“For what, three thousand dollars?” he asked.

“Five,” she replied evenly.

“Uhmm,” he said.

He moved around behind her and ran a hand over her big, but well defined butt cheeks and then down between her legs. He squeezed her and then gave me a very hard slap, which made me start a little. The slap was loud and Rebecca gasped, like she wasn’t used to it – ha, take that, I thought. 

“That’s a very nice ass too,” he said and gave it another whack.

“Ahhh, thank you sir,” she replied.

He took the waistband of her pantyhose with one hand and yanked it about half way down her ass before reaching inside and stroking and squeezing her bare flesh. He pressed tightly up against her from behind, lifted her hair away from the right side of my neck, and gave the exposed flesh an intimate and familiar kiss. She made another little moan, and I thought, “Shit are they making up already?” His right hand went over her shoulder and across her chest, pushed aside the jacket from her breast so that he could squeeze and stroke her nipple. Again, she moaned, the big slut. “Hey, how about giving me a little of that,” I wanted to shout. My nipples were hard as rock and dying to be pinched, or even better, sucked.

He moved a bit to the side so that he could get the same hand to travel down through her bush, and into her pussy. “Ya, some of that too,” I almost said out loud. 

“You’re such a slut,” he said in a low voice that I could barely here. And no shit, she had a fucking orgasm right there, moaning and shuddering for real. Her knees buckled a little, and he held her up with one arm around her waist and the other still deep in her cunt. All this time the little duchess stood bent over with her ass sticking out, holding on to Kelly, neither of them saying a word.

“Welcome home Daddy,” I thought. “Jesus what kind of a nut house had I gotten myself into.”

 

CHAPTER SIX

ASS IN THE WIND

Naturally, I can maintain any position, no matter how uncomfortable and humiliating, almost indefinitely, without a twitch or the slightest whimper, however, I was still grateful that Kelly provided such a sturdy and comfortable structure for me to lean on. She was soft, even plush you might say, and her boobs were so large that mine pretty much rested on top of hers as if they were on a shelf. She was actually holding me up and taking away much of the strain of my ass-in-the–wind position. 

She also smelled nice, very much like fresh millinery, perhaps it was from all of the stiff, elaborate, and expensive lingerie that she normally wore. She was very steady on her heels which made it easier for me be the same on mine as my heart rate slowly diminished. I had anticipated this, and still his sudden arrival had startled me; Kelly’s heart, which I could hear clearly with my head laid near her breastbone, was ticking over slow and steady. That’s not to say she wasn’t having a good time, or that she wasn’t aroused by the sight of her bosses getting a good spanking; I knew this because of the distinct scent of her excited pussy mingled, quite noticeably, with her other perfumes. To me her snatch smelled like a mid-western wheat field in autumn, and since I had never been in a mid-western wheat field in autumn, this was pure fancy on my part.

These obscure thoughts had occupied my mind, no doubt as part of my instinctive efforts to calm my body and disassociate it from my present discomfort and awkwardness. It appeared as if Mr Smith was reacting the way I had expected, but one couldn’t be sure. And in my current stance I couldn’t see what he was doing to Rebecca.

I thought I heard whispering, which was a little disconcerting, and then the unmistakable sound of his zipper coming down and I surmised that Rebecca was now undressing him. A man’s zipper, of course, makes a totally different sound from a woman’s. This was good news because it meant that he was planning to use his cock; he was going to fuck me rather than beat me, and that was quite to my liking. Mr Smith has a very handsome, very large, cock which he wields with great skill, and I was now looking forward to receiving it, even if he were angry.

“Since wasting money is all that seems to get done around here these days, I guess we can get rid of this,” he said, and I felt him gather the thin straps at the back of my dress and tear them to pieces with a single, masterful stroke. Yes, that made sense. 

The flimsy garment parted easily and the tattered halves fell off the sides of my back prevented from falling to the floor by my arms. I made small, appropriately theatrical sounds as his big, hard hand begin to caress my bottom. It felt very good, naturally, but I recognized that kind of caress, the sizing up, the toying, teasing fingers; it was not the handling that preceded the introduction of his cock, no, it was the sort of caress that comes before a blow. Realizing this I didn’t tense up, rather, I willed my body to relax to more easily accept my chastisement. When the blow came however, I did make a totally unintentional squeak of surprise and a little twitch of my exposed hindquarters. Mr Smith almost always used his hand to deliver punishment, and what I had felt was certainly not his hand, but it was also not a cane or a switch or a paddle, crop, or any other implement my tight little bum has encountered in its long naughty career. It was a very precise sting, hitting a very small point on my naked flesh, and it came without a sound. The second sting came very quickly, and my reaction was about the same, but by the third blow I had calmed myself and responded properly, playfully. Five or six of these little bee stings bit my bum at different places before he stopped.

He seemed to have moved off, for I could faintly hear him speaking to Rebecca; closer to home I could actually feel, more than hear, Kelly’s little chuckle. “It’s the cloth belt from Miss Holliday’s dress,” she whispered without looking down. “He’s snapping it like a towel.”

Even though the next volley of five or six shots rained down on my bum without warning or comment, I was able to handle them with aplomb. Then I felt Mr Smith’s warm breath on the back of my neck, hands once again on my bottom, caressing and squeezing hard; “I heard some strange things while I was in Shanghai,” he growled into my ear. I was not surprised.

It is an art to know when to speak and when not to, and I knew that a quizzical “Sir?” was required here.

He was snugged up against me now, pushing my ass back in, flattening the length of my body up against Kelly, pinning me there, hand on my bum, the other on the back of my neck. “I heard that the Renewal Project is already a week behind schedule,” he said.

That was true, the delay had been caused by my distraction with Claire, but it was hardly something for him to worry about with all he had to direct, and besides it was very early days yet, and I was confident that I would be able to make up the time long before the deadline and ensure we suffered no penalties.

“That is correct, Sir,” I replied, and then made a little moan as his hand slipped to the bottom of my butt cheek, down in between my legs, and slipped just a little way into my wet pussy. “I promise to make it up very quickly sir,” I added.

“Ummmm,” he said, and gave my bum a good smack with his hand; it appeared that the belt had been discarded. Then he snapped the last thin straps of my dress, reached around in front of me, pulled it away from my body and tossed it off to the side, a twenty thousand dollar rag. Now I was naked except for my heels, and quite eager to get fucked. He crushed my breasts with both his hands, and squeezed my nipples quite mercilessly.

“Oh Sir,” I moaned, “please fuck me, I want your big hard cock up my bum.”

Kelly chuckled quite openly, and Mr Smith gave me another hard swat; I had expected no less. Still, my insolence had not put him off, for now he drew my hips back a ways from Kelly’s now somewhat slick body, and placed his rock hard cock straight up between my tight cheeks while he ran his hands over my back, hips and butt in a most appreciative manner. There was no question that he enjoyed the feel of my body, spare as it is compared to Rebecca’s and some of the other women. I was quite confident that I had correctly sensed a growing shift in his preferences, away from plush and curvy to more slender models, like myself, and Claire. He spread my legs a bit further apart and returned to stroking my bottom and pussy in a manner that suggested he was finally going to fuck me.

Fuck me he did; the wide-bladed head of his very large, very hard, cock split my wet lips with ease and he thrust so hard that he drove me, moaning, back up against Kelly, lifting me up on my tip toes at the same time as his shaft sunk in as far as it would go. I was impaled, so large and hard was his cock that he could have turned around and walked about the room with me stuck on it like a monkey on a stick. 

“Oh thank you sir!” I cried, “You are too good to your naughty little English cunt.”

Kelly laughed out loud, and he began pounding me up against the solid sweaty wall of her flesh. She took her hands off her hips and grabbed mine while Mr Smith had a butt cheek in either hand and was using that for leverage as he hammered away. I was quite breathless for a while, mindless even, consumed by such gratifying fulfillment as to make me thank the Gods once again for crossing my fate with his. My repeated orgasms were certainly not fake, nor did I need to do anything to make them more theatrical than the convulsing, crying, howling, display that they honestly were.

He didn’t stop for my orgasm, he just kept right on pumping his hard shaft into my tight, well lubricated tunnel, and I had to climb down from that ecstasy myself, at which point I discovered that my feet were back on the floor, my arms had come away from Kelly’s neck, and were now grasping at her hips as I was bent to almost a ninety degree angle. He withdrew his long cock almost all the way out, and then gave my rump an encouraging slap which I knew meant that he wished me to do some work for a change, and now I stated to hump him, albeit backwards, thrusting my hips back and forth, steadied against Kelly, driving myself along his shaft.

“I heard even stranger news while I was in Shanghai,” he said loudly enough to be heard above my pounding heart and incessant little obscene grunts that were coming out of me.

“I heard,” he went on in a somewhat incredulous voice, “that you had committed two million of my dollars for the right to audition a scrawny… forty-one year old… soccer mom!” He punctuated his words with hard slaps to my bum.

He was playing with me. He knew that his statement was more than a little unfair. Certainly I was the one who took a fancy to Claire in the first place, and brought her to Rebecca, and I did continue to promote her as a possibility even after she ran out on us in Sacramento, but the decision to help her out, was entirely Rebecca’s. He knew very well that I didn’t have the authority to make that kind of commitment, because he hadn’t given it to me. Either he was testing me, or he was baiting Rebecca. I didn’t object, or try to put any of the blame on her of course. He would have to tease it out – had Rebecca lost her judgement because she was infatuated with me, and would cavalierly waste the company’s money to please me? Or had she seen the value in Claire herself?

The telling thing was that he was talking to me, and not to her. He slapped me much harder indicating his impatience so I ventured to respond; “Sir, the scrawny soccer mom has spit in her eye, she has a delightful mix of both desire and naivety. I feel that she has the edge that you so enjoy in a woman.”

He pulled out of me, grabbed me by the shoulders, whipped me around and crushed me against his chest. “So you think she’s a prize, an expensive diamond in the rough?” he asked in a mocking tone.

“Oh yes Sir,” I replied looking up into his wintery blue eyes, unable to properly compose myself and remove the longing from my face. I didn’t want him to think me pleading my case, when in fact I was at the mercy of my unbridled love for him. Such difficulties come from mixing business with pleasure, which nonetheless lies at the very heart of how Mr Smith lives. The time had come for a changing of the guard; Rebecca, as much as I loved and respected her, really was past the time that she should have been kicked upstairs, put on the board, given a consultancy. It wasn’t unprecedented, there was a whole generation of women that had come before her, and now were put out to pasture. Certainly she was very attractive for a woman of fifty-four, but none the less, well, fifty-four. Of course there were many women in cohorts ahead of me, forty and thirty year olds, with seniority, but I intended to vault over them. Surely that was Mr Smith’s intention, why else would he have raised me up so fast?

I looked at her kneeling, head bowed, naked – not in a position of surrender, at least not to me. She was as much a victim of love as was I. Perhaps she was just now realizing the precariousness of her situation, perhaps not; no one ever really sees it coming. I did love her, and I would see that she was well taken care of, after all, she had been the mentor of my mind since I was eight years old, and of my body since I was eighteen. I had wanted it to be much sooner, but Mr Smith has very strict rules about that sort of thing, and as always, he knew best.

Of course it wouldn’t be today, or even this month, but the succession must happen soon, and I wanted the boss to know I was ready, to know I could be ruthless if needs be. And that I was preparing, soon I would be needing my own loyalists, my own creatures, new blood….like Claire.  
Authors note: For anyone who hasn’t been following since the beginning, Patricia Durance, Duchess of Foxboro, the character inspired by Emma Watson, is interchangeably referred to as “Patricia,” “the little duchess” or “Foxy” by her acquaintances, and sometimes as “little English cunt.”

CHAPTER SEVEN  
REBECCA’S ARSE

“Scrawny soccer mom!”

I almost… almost, forgot just how desperate my situation was when I heard that. I actually turned about half way around; both Mr Smith, who was humping the shit out of the little duchess, and the little duchess, who was getting humped, were facing away from me, Rebecca was on her knees with her head down. But Kelly, who was basically being used a piece of fuck furniture, was looking my way and she was watching me. She looked me right in the eye and gave her head a little shake; she was smiling an easy smile, not quite mocking, as if to say “Hey, how can you take this shit seriously? It’s all a game.” Maybe I read too much into that flash of silent communication between us, but that’s what I got out of it. I took a deep breath, turned around and resumed my position growling over top of the riding crop in my mouth. I actually put teeth mark into it.

I guess I had my eyes closed too, because when I opened them I noticed that the two love birds weren’t fucking any more, the little duchess was standing close to Mr Smith, looking up at him, and I just caught part of what she was saying, it sounded like; “She has a keen intelligence, Sir, and a capacity for loyalty…”

“Who me? Well ya…”

“… and perhaps more to the point, her two daughters are included in the deal, and they both seem very promising long term investments,” she said.

“Was that it, I was just part of the bundle, like those useless cable channels that get thrown in for free? Well listen here sweetie…” 

Then I shut my mind down because I knew I was starting to get crazy again, and because I heard his deep voice say; “Let’s have a look.”

He loomed up behind me. I froze and stared straight ahead. Patricia came around in front of me. “Open!” she commanded and then took the riding crop from my mouth. 

Without moving my head I let my eyes drop down to look at her. She was staring me right in the eyes, I had never seen her look so tense and excited, but I couldn’t read her expression. She ran her fingers down the shaft of the crop, she must have felt the bite marks, but she didn’t say anything, she just placed the flap of the crop against my lips. I got the message, “keep you whore mouth shut.” 

She didn’t tell me to look up, in fact I got the impression that she wanted me to keep looking at her. Even this close up, I was struck at how flawless her skin was, and how perfectly formed her little mouth, with her red painted lips nice and plump at the bottom. Her hair, looking more red in this light, had come partly undone from her formal coif, but the long tendrils straying down on both side of her angelic/devilish face only made her look even more sexy. Fuck! Past her strong, but dainty chin I could see that her tits were perfect too, with not a blemish, or the slightest deviation from exact symmetry. Staring at her, wanting her, helped to keep me steady when Mr Smith suddenly snatched the riding crop from between my legs. 

I felt the flap of that crop running down my spine, down to the crack of my ass and then pause. “Maybe not scrawny,” he said. “But skinny, too skinny.”

The little duchess had taken a step back from me, “Yes Sir, we will have that fixed quickly,” she replied looking over my shoulder at him.

“Hmmm,” I felt the crop slip around the outside of my right butt cheek, then down in between my legs. He tapped the inside of my thighs. “Wider,” he commanded. I immediately opened my stance about another six inches, trying hard to control my excited breathing.

“Prisoner!” Patricia snapped and I immediately brought my hands up and locked them behind my head, grateful for the chance to stretch a little.

I felt his surprisingly rough palm stoke my ass and then take the whole thing in his grasp and squeeze. I tightened by reflex and rose a little, but kept my balance.

“Tight,” he said; his hand went farther down and a thick, strong finger entered my pussy up to the second knuckle. I sucked breath in sharply through my nostrils, and would have fallen forward if Patricia had not stepped up and steadied me, hands on my hips, chest to chest.

“Wet,” he added, taking his finger back out.

“Oh yes, she’s very good like that,” Patricia agreed, still holding onto me, and not only did I come a little, I flushed with a kind of proud embarrassment. Still, I couldn’t help gasping as I felt the flap of his crop slide into my slit and up along it to just under my clit. He gave it a little tap.

I saw the slightest of widening in Patricia’s eyes and a very small, encouraging nod.

“Mmmmmmmmm,” I moaned. Not fake, I just let it out. She gave me a little smile and I knew I’d done right. 

He dragged the crop back down my slit, pushing it in further, a couple of inches at least. It was a very strange feeling, the floppy leather flap and the skinny shaft. He kept pushing it in, slowly, steadily. I went “mmmmmmmmm” more quietly, and in time with his speed. Patricia had stepped back again, watching my face closely, steadying me with her crop firmly pressed against my breastbone.

The wet flap of his crop came out the bottom of my pussy and was dragged upwards and pressed hard into my puckered asshole. “Ahhhh,” I groaned in surprise and a little pain. I took a half a step forward, and before I could step back I felt his strong arm come over my shoulder and across my chest, pulling me back, forcing me onto the crop. He wiggled it a bit and continued to insert in up my ass.

“Ah, ah, AAhhh,” I gasped, I couldn’t help it. He held me in a crushing bear hug, the hand over my shoulder now taking my whole left tit in his palm and squeezing it mercilessly. I had never felt anything like this …this assault. I didn’t know what to do. I felt the tap of Patricia’s crop on the tip of my nose and opened my eyes. She was moving her lips, and nodding again.

“Ahhhhhh…….thank you Sir,” I managed to get out. “Ahhhh…..I love that, Sir.”

He chuckled and slowly withdrew the offending object from my rectum and then released me. I had only a second to recover before he moved around in front of me, blocking my view of Patricia completely. 

“Claire……” he said, and I immediately looked into his grey, wintry eyes. I didn’t really notice anything else about him at the time. He held my eyes with his while his hand went down my belly, through my pubes and into my slit. He shoved two fingers up inside me, not really roughly, not jabbing, but firm and relentless and steady, right up the last knuckle again. I twitched and trembled, no shit, I was on the verge of another orgasm, a big one this time, just like that. It was his eyes, it was something about his eyes. I had to push down against his hand with my hips to keep my balance. “…..how do you like it here?” he asked.

I had to swallow a couple of times to get my dry throat to work, I flicked my tongue over my lips; “I love it, Sir,” I replied. “Thank you for inviting me.”

I was rewarded with a swift smile, and a softening of those eyes, and yes, that did it. I started to come all over his hand, still somehow managing to hold my position with my hands behind my head. My butt cheeks clenched like crazy and my stomach rippled with convulsions, but I held my position, helped a lot by the firm grip he had on my snatch. He let me finish before he withdrew his hand, giving my clit a little pinch as he went by. He put his dripping hand right in front of my mouth and I leaned my head forward to suck the two middle fingers into my mouth. I had never done that before, licked my own pussy juices, sucked my own cum down my throat, but I didn’t even taste it, so intent was I on keeping eye contact and sticking out my tongue and licking his whole hand clean.

To my surprise he then placed that hand behind my neck, bent down and gave me quite a soft kiss. Very soft, like he was really tasting my lips. I opened my mouth slightly and his tongue ran slowly along my teeth, along my lips and then withdrew. When I opened my eyes he had moved away. 

“Rebecca,” he snapped.

“Sir," she replied immediately and crawled over to where he was standing in front of the big wing chair and started untying his shoes. Patricia remained in front of me, her eyes were smiling and there was unmistakable relief and happiness in her face. For the first time it occurred to me that she was on my side. I had never thought of it that way before; I thought she was just fucking with me, having her jollies at my expense. Then I remembered something she had said at one of our first meetings; “We want you to succeed, Claire,” she had said. Well fuck me, maybe she meant it. 

Reflected In the window I could see Rebecca, still on her knees undoing his belt. Kelly, quiet all this time was standing next to the chair now, her hip resting casually against its high back. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but I had a good feeling; maybe it was just the aftermath of the two orgasms I’d just had, or how I found it easier to stand quietly, eager to see what was going to happen next. My mind had calmed down, and I didn’t have to go pee. 

There was some kind of game in play here. I didn’t know what it was yet, or understand the rules. But there definitely was a game on. I knew that I could get through this, and that it wasn’t just a matter of survival anymore. Somehow I was gonna win this fucking thing.

 

#####

 

I was convinced that the boss was playing some kind of game. I had seen it before when he wanted to light a fire under some of his executives who had been taking their positons for granted. He would treat them to a sudden loss of affection, a shift in responsibilities, remind them that they had to work for his approval every damn day. And always, when he wanted to improve performance, he would ramp up the competition between his very closest advisors. There was always a certain level of turmoil in his vast organization, people were often promoted and demoted, sent into the wilderness and later brought back into the fold. It had happened to all of the senior executives at one time or another – all except me. This was new, this was the first time he was playing a game without letting me in on it beforehand. That was troubling, but no cause for panic.

After I had removed his shirt I sank back down to my knees. I knew enough not to speak when this sort of thing was going on, I also knew enough to get my nose up under his balls and lick him just where he liked it best, something I had been doing for thirty-four years. And of course, the divine scent of him was very calming in itself, as was they salty taste of his skin, and the feel of that, taught, smooth place that I sought out with my tongue. 

“One mustn’t take such privilege for granted,” I reminded myself, and perhaps that was the purpose of this whole charade. I smiled as I felt his strong, familiar hand at the back of my head, shoving me right in there, smothering me, enveloping me. When he released his pressure I slid my tongue between his big balls and continued up to his shaft, up and up and up to the bulbous head, and then over the top, sucking in the head and then impaling my throat on my master’s spike. He humped my throat with long, powerful strokes allowing me to grab handfuls of his hard butt while my tongue snaked out of my dribbling mouth to lick his balls again and again.

“Such skill isn’t arrived at overnight, my dear Foxy,” I thought, “or even by a mere six years of constant practice.” I withdrew back to his head and commenced sucking and bobbing on his meat while working two handed on the shaft. I was very liberal with the saliva, letting it flow as freely as possible onto his dick and down onto my breasts.

He pulled me up straighter on my knees, bent his mighty legs and began to fuck the tits that he loved so much. He had me by the shoulders and the back of the neck by now, and I had as much of my tits as I could contain in both of my hands pressed hard against his shaft as it drove up and down. In this position I couldn’t catch the head as it came through, so I looked up at him letting my true devotion shine openly in my eyes. He wasn’t looking down at me, he was looking over at Foxy who had brought her little whore to watch the show. Bold, foolish Claire standing there wide eyed with a crop in her mouth, but I noticed with disdain, no longer one shoved up her amateurish cunt.

Now he turned to me; “Up!” he commanded and offered me a hand which I used to rise, slithering along his hard frame to stand confidently on my spikes, a few inches below his wicked mouth which he now lowered to grab mine in a ferocious kiss. We made out like teenagers, rubbing and humping our bodies’ together right in front of the Foxy and her precious new pony.

He sat on the familiar wing chair with his trunk-like legs spread wide and smiled at me. I was back on track, tactically at least. “Suck!” he commanded.

With perfect form, for my “old” body has lost none of its essential flexibility, I bent at the waist, stuck my out my ass, rested my hands on his thighs and lowered my mouth to continue sucking his mighty cock. I couldn’t resist giving my plush posterior a little waggle. “Beat that you scrawny bitch!” I thought.

“Lube her up Patricia,” The boss commanded, and oh yes there was the slightest hesitation before her ingratiating, “Delighted Sir, you know me so well!”

Such an order, without further instruction, without direction for Kelly to assist would mean that the preparation of my rectum would have to be done entirely by her lips and tongue. She had done it before, of course, but it had been a while since she had demonstrated such selfless devotion to me. The boss was wise and subtle as always; who then is the winner, the one who gets fucked up the ass or the one who has to lick it first?

I only wished I could have seen her tensely smiling, haughty face disappearing between my cheeks, I would have liked to have seen that little pixie nose burrowing down there, and the sharp, oh so sharp, foxy tongue darting out to tickle my anus. But I felt it, which was good enough, felt her lick and kiss and slobber, felt her lap with long strokes of her dainty tongue while her little hands grabbed viscously at my well-padded buns. She dare not do a shoddy job, not because I would complain, but because the boss would surely notice and not be amused.

It made perfect sense to me now. Of course he had to turn his two favorites against each other. I was surprised though, that Patricia had risen so high in his opinion. Did he consider her my equal already? In his affection, yes, that I could understand, but there were many others who I would consider closer to my ability in managerial skills and leadership.

She was a wonder to be sure, our little Foxy, and perfectly suited to rule the roost someday. “But not today, darling, oh no, not yet. Keep licking little Foxy, do a good job now,” I said to myself while the boss’s hot, hard cock slid in and out of my eager mouth. I was tempted to fart on her, but of course that would have been unspeakably crude. We are not barbarians after all. We were not even enemies. This was just Mr Smith’s way of reminding us that although we were sisters, even lovers, we were still rivals. By the same rules, she did not take the opportunity to bite me in that most sensitive of areas.

When the boss judged that he had made his point, he almost playfully ordered her away and threw me down upon the carpet, my legs high in the air, my entire nether region absolutely soaked by Foxy’s spit and my own cum. He shoved his cock into my cunt first, and that too was an indication that he wasn’t really mad. He let me feel his powerful dick slamming my insides, filling my naughty hole, letting me grip it, and drag it in, feel him shove the wide head past my sensitive lips again and again. 

Then it was a mere lift of the hips, and a further bending of the legs and the head of his cock was at my foxhole, if I may be permitted such a shameless pun. He had to work it in, for I am still very tight. He circled it with the head of his cock then forced it open, forced it to expand to accommodate him. He took longer, deeper, and then faster strokes into my tight hot tunnel until I could do no more than throw my head back and sing his praises. He favored me with a full, hard-spirting load of his cum, and an appreciative growl in my ear.

 

#####

 

I had remained kneeling once I got my face out of Rebecca’s arse, smiling with delight as first she rode him on the chair, and then as he pounded her on the floor making her bovine haunches ripple. I didn’t wipe my face, and so her scent remained up my nose, on my lips and tongue as I waited patiently for the boss to decide what he wanted to do next. He went at her for quite a while, being the man of great stamina that he is, time enough for me to compose myself, and relax. Patience, I told myself, wait and see how the game develops, all I knew at his point was that my planned coup wasn’t going to be a “slam dunk,” as the ever so colourful Americans say.

It can be very humiliating, rimming someone, and it’s not something that I would like to do every day, but I do enjoy it now and again; there is something so absolutely decadent and self-effacing about being smothered in arse that takes one quite out of one’s self. And, as you may or may not know, even the anus of a woman like Rebecca is delicately perfumed. This was my world, and all the tension, uncertainty and sexual cut-and-thrust as it were, never failed to turn me on and keep me aroused. Even with my nose buried in her butt and my hands on her ample cheeks, I still managed to slip my foot under myself and grind my pussy against my heel and almost bring myself off. 

I should have liked to have looked over my shoulder to see what Claire, still standing where I had left her near the chair, was making of Rebecca’s unrestrained howling and moaning. This wasn’t supposed to happen, even junior execs, let alone still unchosen novices, were not supposed to see their superiors reduced to mindless humping bitches. Normally they wouldn’t even see Mr Smith until they had been trained and tested for weeks, let alone be touched by him, and absolutely never get fucked by him as I was beginning to suspect was going to happen to Claire tonight. The boss was behaving very strangely and I didn’t know what it meant for me, or especially for Claire. Patience, wait and see.

The boss let fly inside of Rebecca and she slowly quieted and then lay back, arms spread wide like someone crucified. Mr Smith was up very soon after, standing and stretching as his dripping cock slowly subsided. He looked down at me and laughed. I knew I was a mess, hair would be all over the place, lipstick and mascara smudged and running, sweat and cum sheening my skin. It was a look he always enjoyed, briefly. “Go clean yourself up Patricia,” he chided me; “you look like you just had your head up someone’s ass.”

“It was wonderful, Sir,” I replied brightly as I rose to my feet. I didn’t look at Claire as I walked slowly, with my normal confident swish and swagger, to the big en suite. I went to my vanity, laughed at myself in the mirror and then started washing off. If he had wanted me to take a shower he would have said so, which meant that this would be a quick repair job, and then back into action. 

While I was reapplying my lipstick Rebecca came in walking gingerly. “A bit wobbly, dearest?”  
I asked with a solicitous smile.

“Exquisite pain, my dear,” she replied and came up beside me, placed a hand on my back and regarded us both in the mirror. She looked quite happy and relaxed, she was tousled and fucked looking, but her face wasn’t nearly the fright mine had been when I came in. “Of course your tongue work was wonderful as usual. You are so very good at that Foxy, it’s a wonder you cute little nose isn’t a darker shade of brown.”

“Thank you Rebecca, it really is easier when you have so much area to work with.”

She smiled; “Isn’t it wonderful to have the boss back,” she said and went over to her side of the room.

 

####

 

One minute they’re going at it like animals. I mean, he was hammering Rebecca up the ass! She’s howling like a crazy woman, and the next minute they all fucked off and left me standing there alone with cum drying on my legs. I didn’t know where everybody went, I couldn’t see any of them, and now I was seriously worried about my bladder.

“Come on, before you pee on the carpet and I have to whack your nose with a newspaper,” Kelly said, appearing suddenly beside me. She moved real quiet for a big girl.  
She closed the door behind us; “Open,” she said, and took the riding crop out of my mouth, and chuckling at the bite marks, set it down on the vanity. “Relax, we got about ten minutes,” she said which let me know we were going to act like almost normal human beings at least for the moment.  
I groaned shamelessly as I emptied my bladder, looking around at the large bathroom. “I guess this is one of those five piece bathrooms; toilet, sink, shower, bidet, and wine fridge,” I said.  
“This is the master bedroom “guest” bathroom, you should see the en suite,” she said holding up the chilled bottle she had taken out of the fridge; “You’re Chardonnay, right?”  
“God yes, you’re an angel, Kelly,” I replied getting up and going immediately to squat over the bidet. I watched her pour us each a large glass while I vigorously scrubbed my snatch, crack and ass.   
“I bet you’re glad you waxed for this,” she said with her big mouthed grin. Seriously, I bet she could have put my whole head in her mouth, it was that big. I wouldn’t say she was beautiful, well not magazine model beautiful, her face was square, and so manly that I might have mistaken her for an exceptionally attractive drag queen except for her very large, and obviously natural breasts. She was sexy though, you know, in a drag queen sort of way.   
She handed me a glass as I stood up, then grabbed a towel, crouched down and started drying off my junk while I closed my eyes and downed the drink in about two gulps. “So what the hell’s going on out there?” I asked.  
She stood up, grabbed my tit and squeezed the nipple. “Don’t push it, Claire,” she said. She gave me a little push that sat me down on the toilet. “Take a load off,” she said, and then went back to the fridge and took out a bottle of water and gave it to me.  
I drank my water and otherwise kept my mouth shut after that. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on getting as many kinks out of my shoulders and neck as I could. Time was up real quick and I stood up and faced the door docilely. “How much longer is this going to take?” I ventured tentatively.  
“Open,” she said and put the crop back in my mouth. “That’s something you never want to think about; how long something’s going to last, when’s it going to end; that’s how you make yourself crazy. As far as you’re concerned, it’s never going to end. Just be,” she replied.  
I would have said something smart about Zen and the art of whoring, but I had a riding crop in my mouth. She must have seen it in my eyes because she had a real good chuckle, grabbed my ass – she could get a whole cheek in one of her hands, and gave it a hard squeeze before she marched my back out into Rebecca’s bedroom.   
CHAPTER EIGHT  
PLEASE SIR CAN I HAVE SOME MORE

Mr Smith and the little Duchess were standing looking out the window, she still had her heels on, but nothing else. He was completely naked and still had the riding crop in his hand. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man who was really comfortable being naked, but this guy sure was. He stood with his legs a bit apart, drink in one hand, looking right at home – well I guess he was. The top of Patricia’s head came up to just above his shoulder; she was standing casually beside him, not leaning on him, but she had one of her dainty hands on his hard ass. They were talking, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying, Rebecca was nowhere in sight.  
I felt pretty good, the short break and the wine had really helped, I was getting used to these killer heels and having a riding crop in my mouth, it’s shameful, but believe me, you can get used to anything. Worse, as soon as I walked back into the room I started to get horny again. Kelly left me standing near the wing chair where the boss had fucked Rebecca. Head up, looking straight ahead, my eyes strayed to his hard, hairy ass, and Patricia’s tight little one next to it. Fuck, there was no doubt about it, I was getting turned on. Like I said earlier, I liked to get fucked hard by a man, and this old guy seemed to know how to do that. I couldn’t help but hope that I was going to get some of that, and not just be a finger puppet all night.  
And then I thought, “Jesus Christ, Claire, are you really that much of slut?” It was one thing to have to do this shit to save my ass, but what kind of person enjoys it? Not me, that’s for sure, or at least that’s what I would have said two days ago.   
Rebecca came sauntering back in, also naked except for her heels, and I was reminded of how incredible it was to watch the boss make her come with just a couple of fingers up her snatch and a few whispered words. “Now that’s a slut!” I thought and then “Shit, he did the very same thing to me, and I just met him.” So what, the guy’s got charisma, money, power, he knows how to set a girl up. But was that all there was to it? I remembered how overwhelmed I’d been by that very first time I had looked into his eyes, even thinking about it now made me flex my pussy muscles. Was he some kind of hypnotist; were we all the victims of some kind of mind control? Shit, I’d have to think about that.  
Rebecca had gone to stand on the other side of the boss, and put a possessive hand on his other cheek. She was three or four inches taller than Patricia, but her ass was bigger, so even though it started higher up, the bottoms of their cheeks were about even, quite a contrast, and fucking sexy too, damn it!  
Kelly had brought them fresh drinks and they continued talking, looking out into the night. Everybody seemed a lot more relaxed, but I couldn’t be sure that the whole…..thing... that seemed to be going on, was done with. Kelly went off to the side of the room and came back carrying a piece of furniture over her head. It was a short, low sort of bench with carved legs and a thickly padded, black leather top. She set it down about four feet in front of the wing chair. The gang were all heading over toward me now; “here we go, this oughta be interesting,” I said to myself.  
Patricia took the riding crop from my mouth and gave me a tap on the ass, “Up, hands and knees,” she commanded.   
I figured I knew what she wanted so I got up on the bench on my hands and knees with my arms stiff and my back straight. She came around in front of me “head up,” she snapped and forced my head up with the riding crop until my chin was parallel with the floor. Then just for fun she kind of rubbed the flap of the crop back and forth across the tip of my nose before stepping out of my line of sight. Now I couldn’t see anything at all. The window was off to my left and I was looking past the bottom of Rebecca’s huge bed to the far wall that had one of those large paintings on it that was like just like four rectangles of color, probably worth a million bucks or something.   
I felt Mr Smith’s hands on me, there was no mistaking them, feeling my ass, running along my back on either side of my spine. He paused and felt my rib cage disapprovingly. “Alright, I get it, you want me to eat. Fine, I’ll fucking start pigging out, no problem.” His hands went down to my tits. I’m only about thirty inches around the top, but I fill out a B cup all the way, and I’m firm. In this position I know I look pretty good, they don’t hang, but there unmistakable. He didn’t seem to have any complaints, he stroked them, and then squeezed them hard. I’m more than a handful for most men, but he had no trouble getting one whole boob into each of his big hands. His rough palms really got my nipples zinging though, no doubt about it, and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning.  
“Who did you have in mind to correct the daughters?” he asked.  
“Christina,” Patricia replied.  
He took his hands off of my tits and went up and gathered my pony tail in his hand and tugged just a little. “Going all out eh; isn’t she busy.”  
“Just for an assessment, Sir,” Patricia replied quickly. “She’s been delayed on her way to Bogota and has a couple of days here in town. I was thinking that Mila might supervise for the longer term, and of course I’d be involved every day.”  
His hands left my pony tail and went back down my back to grab my ass cheeks again. “Aren’t you busy?” he asked sounding a bit angry again.  
“Yes Sir, but I believe this is worth my time, just until we get their mind’s straight, then one of the more junior execs can take over.”  
His hands went from squeezing, to stroking, and I felt my damn pussy getting so moist I knew that my arousal was going to obvious pretty soon, then they would know what a slut I was. Or maybe they already knew, that was possible. I still couldn’t see anybody, and that was frustrating. They were talking about my girls, but I could hardly concentrate on that, anyways those little shits deserved anything they got.  
“Your ass is way out on a limb on this, Foxy,” he said. “You just might get it bitten off.”  
“Yes sir, I realize that.”  
He gave my butt a real hard slap that made me grunt so loud the crop almost flew out of my mouth. “Well, for now I’ll settle for giving it a good reaming; let’s see if your little pony can get you ready,” he said.  
“Sounds wonderful, Sir, you’re too generous,” the little duchess replied. “Little brown nose,” I thought which was pretty hilarious because the next thing I knew I was staring right up her butt.  
Of course it was a very nice butt, round and cream colored, even her sphincter had a very light hue, not that I’d ever been that close to someone’s sphincter before. Still, it looked very dainty, and as I was about to discover, smelled like rose water. Someone took the crop from my mouth.   
“You hear that Claire,” Patricia said, I couldn’t see her face, but she must have been looking over her shoulder at me. “The boss’s big, fat cock is going up that little hole, and all the lubrication I’m going to get is from your mouth, and believe me, if I can’t walk in the morning, you’ll be much worse off.”  
“Yes madam,” I replied before the light was blotted out by her the inner walls of her tight little cheeks pressing in against my eyes.  
This was something else I had never done before, hadn’t even dreamed of doing to a man or a woman, but here I was, and after all, the little duchess had her head buried up Rebecca’s butt just a few minutes ago, so I figured that in this kinky place it wasn’t considered particularly humiliating. I confess, I was curious as I made my first tentative swipes at her ring piece. Like I said, it smelled like rose water down there, and there wasn’t any taste, so I started to dart my tongue around, trying to get the tip into the center of the hole and maybe tease it open.   
Her cheeks weren’t that deep, so I could partially breathe through my nose and completely through my mouth, my ears were out, so I clearly heard her growl. “You not there for your own fucking amusement, Claire, get the fucking thing wet.” Then she ground it hard against my mouth. I managed to work up some saliva and started laying it on as thick as I could.   
Again, if I could of just have used my hands I could have done a better job, but even as it was, my efforts weren’t totally wasted because I could see, and smell, her cunt smells faintly like musk and lilacs, that she was getting excited. Well, my mouth was practically right there, so I stuck my nose up her ass and started lapping at her pussy, and right away I was able to get between her lips and start dragging some of that moisture up to her ass.   
“Good girl,” Patricia said and backed off a little to make it easier for me to take long broad strokes from deep in her pussy all the way up and then drive my wet tongue into her quickly loosing butt. I was already caught up in the challenge of getting this difficult job done and proving my eagerness and ability to do aaannnyyy thinnnnng. It didn’t matter that I was licking out some rich bitch’s pussy and ass, it was just another skill to be mastered. I could vaguely feel that I was also being groped, even fingered, but that didn’t break my concentration for a second.  
She was helping; the little slut’s cunt was getting soaked, and pretty soon I had her ass the same way. I had been working around the edges with my now plugged-up nose, pushing it open, and now I could get my tongue right in there, far enough that I could actually push out at the sides. She even started moaning, and I thought “Ha, I’m gonna make her come!” but then her ass was gone and I was licking at empty air with her pussy juices dripping off of my nose and down onto my disappointed tongue.

 

####

 

While Claire did a very serviceable job licking my arse, Rebecca had been slobbering all over the boss’s cock, so it was with only slight trepidation that I prepared to be impaled on his formidable spike. He was sitting in the wing chair, and after a welcoming kiss, I turned my back to him, crouched a little and spread my cheeks. Kelly came up in front of me to lend me support, holding onto my shoulders while my face pressed between her breasts.  
From the time I was a school girl I had been fascinated by the anus, as had a lot of my classmates. This is not a solely British preoccupation; the French, and of course, the Greeks have a similar bent, in fact the Americans seem to be only society in the Western world that still treats it as a serious taboo. That said, we Brits do have a special affection for bums and bottoms, related possibly to our love of spanking. At Headington our arses certainly got as much fingering and licking as our pussys. Unlike some girls, however, I refrained from sticking any really large items up there because I knew that someday I would have a beloved master, and I wanted to be fundamentally virgin in that respect knowing that it would make the first time all the more memorable for both of us.  
My first time had been with Mr Smith when I was eighteen, and yes it had been unforgettable for me, and I believe for him as well. We didn’t do it that often, it was reserved for special rewards and celebrations, so I remained, very, very tight, and of course, he remained very, very big. So it was a particular joy to feel him slowly work me open. My heart fluttered and my pussy dripped onto the carpet, yet I knew how to relax myself and give in to his slow, steady pressure as he worked his way around the rim, loosening, warming, and making me expand to the point where even his great broad head found purchase.  
At this point, truly nothing exists in the entire universe other than my slowly surrendering sphincter and his mighty cock. The overwhelming sensations of penetration, surrender and fulfillment envelop me, along with an incredible, wondrous anticipation. Will it really go all the way in again? Can I take him, or will I be split asunder? Even once the head is in, it is a slow progress, forward a little, back a little until, to my immense satisfaction I am reamed right through the guts and I can feel his balls against my wet butt cheeks. This is not done in silence: I moan and groan and beg shamelessly, pleading with him to take me, to fuck me. “Fuck me up the arse, Sir! Oh fucking take me, ahhhhhh, more, more, oh yesss my master, my love, oh yesssss.” That truly over the top sort of thing, and he responds more or less in kind.  
On this particular night, once he had broken me open, so to speak, he sat back down, and with Kelly’s help I clambered up onto his lap. Facing away from him, I planted my feet firmly on his strong thighs and lowered myself back down onto his hot manhood in a kind of anal reverse cowgirl. His strong hands supported me the whole way and he kept himself steady and let me drive, so to speak. Once I was all the way down, and believe me, it is a delicate procedure even for one as experienced as I, for we have a very large cock and a very small arsehole involved here.   
Once my cheeks met his thighs I paused to savor it, the full possession of me by his undeniable manhood. “Oh God how I love you, Sir,” I exclaimed, and then using my leg muscles rose up to the end and repeated the journey three or four times until I was sufficiently loose to lean back and get my hands braced on his chest. Head thrown back I slithered up and down on it a few more times before dropping my feet onto the seat of the chair one on either side of his hips, which caused me to be impaled me even deeper. With great sighs and appreciative murmurs I now slid back and forth languidly on his big snake. Rebecca, standing at the side of the chair took turns leaning over and using her tongue on our ears and mouths and nipples.   
Now he started thrusting, and I kept myself still while enjoying the feel of his rod driving me like piston. I clenched my sphincter and my buns and went up on my tip toes so he could get his hands under my cheeks holding me at just the right angle for maximum pressure while he continued to hammer me using his powerful hip and stomach muscles. Then I slowly sank back down on him, laying further back onto his chest. His cock is so long that I actually ended up with my arse cheeks on his lower belly and he was able to easily reach around with one big paw to expertly rub my clit. This sent me into convulsions and shouted paeans to his glory. I was out of my head transported by delight and had no idea what I was saying.   
He was totally in command now, thrusting faster and deeper, and I was being bounced around, one hand flopping free above my head, the other clenched on top of his as he finger fucked my pussy. I craned my neck back and we engaged in a short hot kiss. I raised one leg instinctively, increasing the pressure, tightening my hole, moaning as Rebecca, now down on her knees between his legs added her tongue to the torment of my pussy. He lifted me back to a more upright position so Rebecca could get right down in that hot dripping place and lick my pussy, and his balls and his cock. With that we all descended into a mindless frenzy until he exploded inside me triggering my fourth and best orgasm of the night. I don’t know what words were getting out between my animal screams and grunts, but I’m confident that they conveyed my appreciation and love for my master and his mighty cock.

 

#####

 

Such moaning and groaning and begging, and whimpering! I heard words and expressions coming out of the mouth of the little duchess that I had never heard before. It was amazing, and even after all of the bizarre shit that had happened so far, I was still shocked and awed. My jaw dropped open, fortunately no one had thought to stick the crop back in my mouth. It’s the accent, you know, and all those words like arse - why does arse sound so much dirtier than ass? And bottom and bum and all that kinda shit. It’s not like all Brits sound like that, it’s the upper class accent I guess, sounding so proper but saying nasty things: “tally ho, fuck my bottom sir.” Well not quite like that, but it fucking turns me on.  
The little duchess was just a howling; “Fuck me sir, oh fuck my tight little arse, oh yes oh god oh sir, more, deeper, deeper ahggghaaaa! Make me your little slut, your whore, Oh sir please ahhhhhh, oh you’re splitting me in two! You’re killing me Sir, killing your little girl. I love it, I love you, grunt, grunt, I luuuuuuvve you oh, oh, oh…….. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, oh god ahhhhhh. I want your massive cock up my arse every minute of every day! Shove it up my bum, show me how much you love me sir, hurt me, kill me ahhhhhh, pleeeeese!” You know, stuff like that.  
I had to look, so I carefully turned my head towards her, but I couldn’t see anything except Kelly’s ass because she stood between me and all the action. Rebecca was over there somewhere too beyond that wall of smooth, lightly golden flesh, so I took the opportunity to work the kinks out of my shoulders and neck, to stretch out my back in a downward dog. When no one noticed that, I even managed to wipe some of the sticky cum off my face and out of my nose.   
Then Kelly started to move and I had to dummy up real quick. There was a bit of a pause and then a long deep groan from both Patricia and Mr Smith, and then I could hear the slapping of flesh and she was off again with her dirty mouth, although more quietly now.  
Kelly moved out of the way, and I tried to sneak a sidelong glance but I really couldn’t see anything without being obvious. “Helloooo, how about me over here like a bitch in heat waiting to get fucked,” I growled out loud, but real low, and then I jumped as I felt what had to be Kelly’s big hands on my shoulders, all slippery with, god knows what, probably massage oil.   
She started giving me a rubdown. “Now that’s more like it!” I thought. She was good, of course, and I moaned softly in appreciation as she worked the strain out of my neck and shoulders, I kinda felt like a boxer getting prepped for a fight, and when her hands went down and really started working over my ass, I was beginning to hope it would be the kinda fight I really, really needed right now.  
She was doing a great job working my thighs, playing with my pussy lips and letting her big fingers slip into my snatch, not really fucking me, just teasing. Then she started to get serious about my asshole. “Shit,” I whispered with a sense of foreboding.  
“Better not be,” Kelly whispered back.  
I guess it was more than massage oil she was using on me because I was getting lubed up pretty good. Her thumbs worked around my ring piece slowly and steadily loosening it and forcing it open.  
‘I’ve never done this before,” I hissed.  
“Then you’re in for a real treat, she chuckled putting her mouth next to my ear. “The trick is to relax, Claire, relax and just take it. The more you tense up the harder it’s gonna be.”  
“He’s fucking huge,” I hissed again, there was definitely an edge of fear in my voice; I was afraid I’d be torn in two.  
“Believe me, physically, you can take it, now relax and let me get you ready, at least you’re getting a proper lube job. Now, head down, ass up and let me help you out.”  
Pretty soon she got one of her thick fingers up there, probing deep, and you know, it didn’t feel that bad, she obviously knew what she was doing, and under her skilled hands I was really losing up. Before I knew it she got two fingers up there and was really working them as deep as they could go and pressing outwards bit by bit.  
She started shoving pretty hard and I couldn’t help grunting, and letting out a few quiet yelps. “How many years you do in Medical school before they kicked you out?” I hissed.  
Fingers still all the way up my butt she leaned over me, her tits easily covering my whole back, to chuckle in my ear. “It’s gonna be okay to make some noise, because ya, he is really big, I mean even I feel him when he takes the Hershey Highway. So sound impressed, but try not to whine too much like a frightened little soccer mom, okay,” she said.  
That got a growl out of me and then I actually started pushing my hips back onto her fingers trying to take more in. “What the hell does everyone have against soccer moms?” I complained, then I thought about it a second and said; “Ya, there’s just something about them that makes you want to fuck the hell out of them and make them cry.”   
We were being quiet, but it really wasn’t necessary with all the racket the other three were making only a few feet away. I snuck a peak and saw Patricia sitting on Mr Smith’s lap, shit, with his cock all the way up her ass, and she was bopping up and down like a pro. Rebecca was down on her knees with her face buried down in his…their lap.  
I was getting used to having my ass finger fucked, it wasn’t that it really hurt much, or that it turned me on really, but watching what the others were doing and listening to them was making me a bit needy. “Hey Kelly, do a girl a favor, hunh? You know, maybe you’ve got a free finger for my pussy.”  
Like I said, the woman was an angel, and she helped me out by getting a couple of fingers deep in my snatch while still working my butthole. “Ohhh yaaaa,” I moaned, and she shushed me.  
At one point she had two fingers all the way up in my cunt, and the thumb of the same hand up my ass, rubbing me pretty damned good; too good, good enough that I felt like I might start an uncontrollable orgasm or even squirt. Hey, was that the G spot? I never found that, I never “squirted” before and figured this wouldn’t be a good time to start. She must have realized it and backed off.  
The little duchess was still going on; “Ohhh god, yesssss sir yesssss, fuck… my… arse. Fuck my little wet arse, fuck… fuck… fuck… ahhhhhh,” and all the time I could hear the loud lapping and slobbering of Rebecca working at that nasty place where his cock met her ass and her open pussy. It sounded like Patricia was finally going to go over the top.  
“I think you’re up,” Kelly said and I lost all contact with her. I was panting and sweating and nervous as hell, but I kept looking straight ahead. And ya, I was more than just a little frightened by now, but I reminded myself that only a little while ago I was complaining I was bored. Well what ever getting reamed out by a world class cock was going to be like, I figured it sure wasn’t going to be boring.  
And, ya, I was right, it wasn’t boring. I could hear Rebecca panting, and Patricia kinda whimpering, that couldn’t be good, and I heard him say, “Alright, let’s see if she’s worth keeping around for a while.”   
And then very quickly after that I felt his rough hands all over my ass, his big cock sliding effortlessly into my soaked pussy, for a couple of very deep, cunt expanding thrusts and then out and up, and just like that his cock head was working my hole. The pressure of that broad bladed monster shoving, pulling back, and then thrusting forward again, was overwhelming and I couldn’t help letting loose with “AHHHHHHH fuck!!” As it smashed through the sphincter and got inside me.  
And then it’s like…well it must be what it’s like to be impaled, you just kinda freeze in disbelief and pant and pant, and then I remembered to relax, and ya he was big, but you know it wasn’t as bad as child birth. And, I reminded myself, the little duchess had taken it up her tiny little ass, and if she could do it, then so could I. That thought really settled me down and I got a grip on myself and decided that if it wasn’t the greatest thing I’d ever felt, it was still kinda hot in its own way, and I tried to enjoy it, more important, acted like I was enjoying it. 

“Ohhh God Yesssssss,” I moaned really loud when he got it all the way up to the hilt, and then it was, “yes…yes….yes!…fuck… fuck …fuck! with each long deep stroke as I was being rocked back and forth, and then crushed down onto the padded bench. He wasn’t playing around, he went to the short strokes pretty quick, and I just kept begging him and praising him, and telling him how much I loved it. I wasn’t trying to be coherent, the words just tumbled out on their own and I let them.

At one point, without thinking I shouted “Oh please sir can I have some more?” and that got a belly laugh out of him. He upped the tempo like crazy and then he stiffened and groaned. I didn’t really feel anything come out – I was pretty damn numb inside, but I know an orgasm when I feel it, even if it was the first time I’d had one in my ass.

I had expected him to pull out then, but instead he settled his body down on top of me, forcing me flat. His mouth was right at my ear, “Okay Claire,” he said. “Tell me about your daughters…….”

 

END OF PART ONE

Part Two: The Correction of Hayley and Alex Dunphy will follow in 2017.

Thanks for reading. All feedback is appreciated.  
Rory.


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